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THE    ENCHANTED. 


THE 


ENCHANTED 


AM  AUTHENTIC  ACCOUNT  OE 
THE  STRANGE  0  R I C,  I N  OE 
THE  NEW  PSYCHICAL  CLUB. 


BY 

JOHN    1JKLL    HOUTON 


"  My  mind  had  become  so  completely  possessed  by  the  imaginary  scenes  and 

characters  ....   that  I  seemed  t»  hi:  actually  living  among  them I  <  oulil 

not  lint  reflect  on  the  singular  gilt  of  the  poet  ;  to  he  able  to  spread  the  magic  of 
his  mind  over  the  very  lace  of  Nature  ;  to  give  to  things  and  places  a  charm  and 
character  not  their  own  and  to  turn  this  '  working-day  world'  into  a  perfect  fairy 
land.  He  is  indeed  THE  TRUE  ENCHANTER." — Washington  Irving. 


NEW   YORK 

CASSELL   PUBLISHING   COMPANY 
104  &  106  FOURTH  AVENUE 


COPYRIGHT,  iS^t,  KY 
CASSELL  PUBLISHING  COM  ['ANY. 


THE    MERSHON    COMPANY    PRESS, 
KAHNVAY,    N,    J. 


TO   THE    MICMORY 


gvuin0, 


T  R  U  K    li  X  C  1  1  A  N  T  V.  R  S  , 
THIS    BOOK   IS    KEVERENTLY    INSCKIliED. 


2061813 


CONTENTS. 


r.u,E 
PROLOGUE,          ..........  I 

l  II.U'TKK 

I.     MKLDRUM  AND  \V.\ni. <>w,  OK  NKW  VOKK,  MARK  A 

DlSCOVK.KY    AND    ARK     1  )ISi  'K  KOI  TKD,    ...  17 

II.  TlIKY  YlK.I.I)  TO  IRVING,  THE  ENCHANTER,  AND  Klv 
PRODI'CK  A  FKTK  CllAMI'KTKK  OK  THE  SEVEN- 
TEENTH CENTURY,  ...... 

III.  TIIICIU  MOMICNIOCS  EXPERIMENT  AT  WEKHAXVKEN, 

IV.  \Vl'II[    SHARK.SI'KAIvK    IN    HIS    M  ACIJF/I  U    COUN'J'RY,  56 
V.       WlTII      DlCKKNS     AT     T1IK     lU'LI,     INN — KXTKAORDI- 

NARY    RlKKTIN(;    OT'    T1IK    NlCW    PlCKWICK    CH'IJ,          6t_) 

VI.     TIIK   NKW  I'ICRWICK   Ci.ui;  ELKCTS  Two  HONOR- 
ARY MEMKKRS,  .  .  .         .       78 
VII.     \Viin  SCOTT  AT  KKNILWORMI,       .  .        92 

VIII.       TllK     ri.KASANT    IJREAKINC;    OK    A    PLEASANT    Sl'ELL,       1O5 

IX.     WITH  TENNYSON  AT  COVENTRY,     ....     117 
X.     MRS.  GREATKIELD'S  VIEWS  ABOUT   LAUY   GODIVA 

AND  OTHER  MATTERS, 127 

XI.     WITH  GRAY  AT  STOKE  POGIS,        ....     138 

XII.     NIGHT  SCENES  AND  THOUGHTS  IN  A  CHURCH-YARD,     149 
XIII.     A   MODERN   ELEGIAC   POET  SEEKING  INSPIRATION 

AT  THE  FOUNT,  ......     160 

v 


(  HArTKK  I'AI.K 

XIV.  WITH  PA-RON  ON  Tin:  JuNGi'kAr,            .         ,         .  17.4 

XV.  MRS.   (iuKATMKLD  AGAIN  KKKKS  I  IKK  MIND,          .  iS6 

XVI.  \Vrni   I  IAW  nioKNK  IN  SIATK  STKKK.T,   UOSTON,    .  203 

XVII.  KKAITKAKAWK  o\-   TIIK  SCAKI.KT  IA\\  i  I'.K,       .         .  219 

XN'III.  TllK  l'''iR  I  CNA  I1-;   I  I  AITF.NINCS  i  >}•    A  JoURNKY  \VEST,  2jS 

XIX.  \VllTI     I.()Ni.I'T.I.I.i>\v    AT    MlNNKHAIIA    K.M.I..-,,  . 

XX.  A.N     10.NU    AND    A    15l.GIN.MNG,  .... 


THE    ENCHANTED. 


PROLOGUE. 

UNCLE   flUS'S   GHOST   AT   THE   IIAILFELLOWS*. 

MR.  GUSTAVLIS  Anou'iius  SWANN—"  Uncle 
Gus,"  lie  was  always  called — had  been  a  member  of 
the  Ilailfellows'  Club,  of  New  York,  for  twenty 
years,  when  he  died.  The  cause  of  his  death  was 
marasmus,  the  doctors  said,  or  an  even  wearing  out 
all  round.  No  one  knew  how  old  he  was,  but  there 
were  veterans  of  "the  street  "  who  remembered  him 
as  a  banker  and  broker  in  Jauncey  Court  fifty  years 
back.  He  had  retired  from  business,  before  the 
speculative  times  of  the  war,  with  a  fortune  ample 
for  his  bachelor  wants.  Club-life  was  his  passion. 
He  had  assisted  in  launching  three  or  four  clubs  on 
the  sea  whose  shores  are  strewn  with  wrecks,  and  all 
but  one  had  foundered  and  gone  to  pieces  amid  the 
thunder  and  lightning  of  enraged  creditors.  The 
Ilailfellows,  of  which  he  was  an  original  incorpora- 
tor,  was  the  sole  survivor  of  his  ventures  in  that 
line.  This  club,  like  the  rest,  would  have  been  en- 
gulfed, if  Uncle  Gus  had  not  assumed  its  load  of 


debt  to  upholsterers,  grocers,  and  coal  dealers,  and 
taken  a  chattel  mortgage  on  the  furniture  and 
pictures,  which  was  well  understood  to  be  an  empty 
formality.  This  generous  act  and  Uncle  Gus's  per- 
petual smile,  old-fashioned  courtliness,  high-colored 
handsome  face,  tall,  straight  figure  and  jaunty  dress, 
which  beautifully  blended  the  old  and  the  new 
styles,  straps  and  flowing  neckcloths  with  rolling 
coat-collars  and  hip  pockets,  made  him  a  universal 
favorite.  As  he  sat  regularly  every  afternoon  in  a 
great  arm-chair,  expressly  reserved  for  him  by  com- 
mon consent,  at  the  bay  window  and  looked  out  on 
the  endless  Fifth  Avenue  procession,  with  the 
keenest  interest  in  the  passing  faces,  many  of  which 
he  knew,  he  was  the  best  possible  advertisement  of 
the  quiet,  the  comfort,  the  neatness,  the  respecta- 
bility of  the  Hailfcllows.  At  the  Saturday  night 
dinners,  he  invariably  occupied'  a  particular  scat  at 
the  central  table;  faultless  as  to  evening  dress,  with 
a  rosebud  and  geranium  leaf  in  button-hole  and 
gold  double  eye-glasses  dangling  down  his  shirt 
front.  As  he  ate  sparingly  and  took  only  a  few  sips 
of  a  special  brand  of  claret — labeled  "  Uncle  Gus" 
in  his  honor — he  found  time  to  talk  freely  to  the 
neighboring  convives,  and  it  was  a  point  of  honor 
with  the  youngest  llailfellows  not  to  yawn  over  his 
reminiscences  of  Grisi,  Mario,  Fanny  Ellslcr,  and 
old  Wallack,  and  always  to  laugh  at  his  jokes  which 


UNCLE   GUS'S  GHOST.  3 

he  never  failed  to  repeat  in  the  same  familiar 
words,  except  that  sometimes  he  wandered  near  the 
end  and  missed  the  point.  Dinner  over,  Uncle  Gus 
would  smoke  a  small  mild  cigar  and  then  drop  his 
venerable  snow-clad  head  on  his  breast  and  sleep 
for  half  an  hour  undisturbed  by  the  speeches  that 
raged  round  him. 

Uncle  Gus  took  all  his  other  meals  at  a  corner 
table,  at  which  no  one  else  presumed  to  seat  himself 
except  on  the  invitation  of  its  honored  monopolist. 
Over  this  table  hung  a  half-length  portrait  of  the 
clear  old  man,  purchased  by  subscription.  It  repre- 
sented him  not  a  whit  pinker  than  the  living 
original,  with  perhaps  a  flattery  of  hair  over  the 
temples,  the  mouth  curving  at  the  ends  in  a  truth- 
ful smile,  the  eyes  bright  and  friendly,  the  head 
canted  a  trifle  on  one  side,  the  forefinger  of  the 
right  hand  inserted  between  the  third  and  fourth 
buttons  of  the  vest.  Having  sat  expressly  for  this 
speaking  likeness,  it  was  but  natural  that  Uncle 
Gus  should  always  uphold  its  fidelity  by  his  pose 
and  manner.  It  was  noticed  that  he  never  stood 
erect  in  the  club  without  inclining  his  head 
markedly  on  one  side,  and  exploring  the  interior  of 
his  vest  with  his  right  hand,  while  his  winning 
smile  became  even  more  expansive  as  years  rolled 
on. 

At  precisely  nine  o'clock  every  night  Uncle  Gus 


4  THE   EXCIIAXTEl). 

would  go  down-stairs  to  the  billiard-room  and  sit  in 
a  high  chair,  where  he  could  watch  the  boys  play- 
ing. In  his  day  he  had  been  a  fine  shot  ;  but  his 
hands  had  become  shaky  and  he  could  no  longer 
grip  the  cue.  ]5ut  from  his  throne  he  overlooked 
match  games  with  the  deepest  interest,  acting  as 
umpire  when  asked.  At  the  expiration  of  an  hour 
he  would  ascend  slowly  to  the  second  floor  where 
he  would  play  just  one  rubber  of  whist,  in  which 
game  he  was  really  formidable  when  he  had  five 
trumps  (including  two  honors)  and  one  strong  suit. 
At  twelve  o'clock  Uncle  Gus  always  bade  the  com- 
pany a  collective  and  dignified  good-night  and 
sought  his  own  elegant  bachelor  quarters,  about 
three  blocks  distant  from  the  club  house,  usually 
with  some  young  Ilailfellow  hooked  to  his  arm  as 
escort. 

Uncle  Gus's  perennial  courtesy  came  out  strongly 
on  Ladies'  Day.  Then  he  reinforced  the  reception 
committee  of  young  men  and  surpassed  them  all  in 
his  gallant  deferential  attitude  to  the  fair  guests. 
It  was  delightful  to  sec  him  totter  around,  some- 

o 

times  offering  his  arm  with  mediaeval  statelincss  to 
an  old  lady  and  escorting  her  to  a  scat,  then  picking 
up  the  fan  she  dropped  (perhaps  intentionally),  then 
slowly  straightening  himself  as  if  fearing  a  crick  in 
the  back,  and  then  bustling  about  to  get  an  ice 
and  some  cake  and  lemonade  for  her.  lie  took 


UNCLE   GUS'S  GHOST.  5 

pleasure  as  he  used  to  say,  in  "sailing  in  and  cutting 
out  "  the  younger  ladies  from  the  escort  of  the 
rakish  juvenile  committeemcn. 

It  was  on  a  Ladies'  Day  that  he  caught,  in  a 
draughty  stairway,  the  cold  that  deprived  the  Hail- 
fellows  of  their  most  useful  and  ornamental 
member. 

By  Uncle  Gus's  will  the  club  received  as  be- 
quests the  (canceled)  mortgage  on  its  furniture  and 
paintings,  a  monster  punch  bowl  of  Wedgwood 
(authentic  beyond  doubt),  twelve  standard  treatises 
on  whist  uniformly  bound  in  tree-calf  and  richly 
annotated  by  his  own  hand,  and  a  small  fund  for 
keeping  the  billiard  table  in  repair. 

The  club  attended  his  funeral  in  a  body,  draped 
his  portrait  in  crape,  and  passed  three  resolutions 
of  regret  with  a  preamble,  which  were  published  in 
the  leading  papers  at  regular  advertising  rates.  All 
of  which  would  seem  to  indicate  that  Uncle  Gus's 
connection  with  the  Hailfcllows  had  been  per- 
manently dissolved,  and  that  his  genial  presence 
would  gladden  them  never  more.  But  not  so. 

One  night,  about  thirty  days  after  the  burial  of 
Uncle  Gus,  there  was  a  spirited  match  game  of  bil- 
liards at  the  club.  Quayle  and  Offling,  the  two 
crack  players,  were  the  contestants.  The  struggle 
ceased  just  before  midnight,  with  Offling  as  victor, 
and  the  spectators  filed  off  one  by  one  into  the 


6  THE  ENCHANTED. 

darkness.  The  champion  and  the  vanquished  lin- 
gered behind  to  discuss  somewhat  heatedly  the 
merits  of  a  particular  stroke  which  had  been  deci- 
sive in  the  last  round.  They  were  left  alone,  uhcn 
Quaylc,  in  a  spirit  of  bravado,  challenged  Offling  to 
one  more  trial  of  their  skill.  The  banter  was  ac- 
cepted, and  both  men  threw  off  their  coats  and 
began.  At  ten  minutes  past  twelve  Ouayle  was 
about  to  attempt  an  exceedingly  difficult  shot, 
when  the  cue  fell  from  his  hands  and  he  started 
back  with  eye-balls  protruding  and  every  sign  of 
fright  and  amazement  in  his  visage. 

"  Wh — what's  that?"  he  cried,  pointing  with 
trembling  forefinger  to  the  high  chair,  which  ho  had 
been  facing. 

"What's  what?"  exclaimed  Offling,  looking  in 
the  same  direction. 

Quaylc  continued  to  gaze  fixedly  at  the  chair  a 
full  minute,  then  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow, 
and  replied  in  a  still  agitated  voice  : 

"  N — nothing  now — but  I  would  swear  Undo 
Gus  was  sitting  there  a  moment  ago." 

"You've  been  playing  too  long  and  your  nerves 
are  unstrung.  You'd  better  go  home  and  to  bed. 

Quayle  energetically  protested  that  he  had 
plainly  seen  Uncle  Gus,  in  his  customary  seat, 
leaning  forward  and  looking  earnestly  at  the  shot 
about  to  be  made.  Offling  laughed  heartily  at 


UNCLE   GUS'S  GHOST.  ^ 

every  word  of  the  statement  and  then  renewed  his 
advice  with  the  additional  suggestion  of  a  dose  of 
bromide  just  before  retiring. 

The  interrupted  game  was  not  renewed,  and  the 
rival  players  sauntered  off,  arm-in-arm,  discussing 
the  alleged  occurrence  with  gravity  on  one  side  and 
jocosity  on  the  other.  If  the  kind-hearted  Offling 
had  not  really  been  alarmed  at  the  upset  condition 
of  Quaylc,  he  would  have  hunted  through  the  club 
for  stray  members  to  whom  he  could  tell  the  story 
with  the  comic  exaggeration  in  which  he  excelled. 
But  he  was  anxious  to  see  his  perturbed  friend 
safely  home  and  he  postponed  his  amusement  till 
the  morrow.  Next  night  all  the  frequenters  of  the 
club  were  regaled  by  Offling  with  the  full  particu- 
lars of  Uncle  Gus's  apparition,  including  a  capital 
imitation  of  Quaylc's  fright  and  astonishment. 
And  when  the  latter  dropped  in,  later  than  was  his 
wont,  and  noticeably  pale  as  if  from  lack  of  sleep, 
he  was  obliged  to  run  a  gauntlet  of  questions  and 
jokes.  To  all  these  he  replied,  with  forced  com- 
posure, that  he  had  certainly  seen  Uncle  Gus  in  his 
favorite  high  chair.  They  might  say  his  liver  or 
his  head  was  out  of  order  the  night  before.  He 
did  not  ask  anybody  to  believe  him.  He  knew  the 
absurdity  of  claiming  to  see  a  ghost  nowadays. 
But  he  would  not  deny  what  was  a  solemn  fact. 
He  stood  by  his  story  against  any  amount  of  ridi- 


THE  ENCHANTED. 

culc,  and  much  more  of  the  same  sort.  Of  course', 
none  of  his  hearers  believed  in  the  genuineness  of 
the  rcvcnant.  The  only  point  at  issue  was  whether 
Ouaylc  was  the  victim  of  a  momentary  aberration 
or  whether  he  had  deliberately  invented  the  spec- 
ter. Whatever  the  truth  might  have  been,  the 
incident  was  a  nine  days'  wonder  among  the  Hail- 
fellows  and  then  was  forgotten,  till  revived  by  a 
strange  event  a  few  weeks  aftcnvard,  as  follows  : 

It  was  between  midnight  and  one  o'clock  whrii 
four  of  the  best  whist  players  of  the  club  were  en- 
grossed in  a  game  in  the  snug  little  card  room  up- 
stairs. They  were  surrounded  by  lookers-on  who 
had  finished  their  play  at  the  other  tables.  A  fresh 
deal  had  thrown  into  the  hands  of  one  of  the  four 
a  combination  which  would  have  rejoiced  the 
heart  of  Uncle  Gus.  There  were  six  trumps  (three 
of  them  honors)  and  a  suit  of  five  from  ace  to 
ten  spot.  When  Uncle  Gus  got  the  lead  with 
something  like  this  to  back  him,  he  was  in  the 
seventh  heaven  of  happiness.  If,  with  the  assistance 
of  his  partner,  he  could,  as  sometimes  happened, 
capture  every  trick,  he  would  never  brng  of  his  con- 
summate skill.  He  would  only  smile  sweetly  and 
receive  with  becoming  modest)-  the  congratulations 
upon  his  masterly  play,  which  it  would  have  been 
sheer  brutality  to  withhold. 

Puffer  was  the  fortunate  custodian  of  that  hand 


UNCLE    GUS'S   GHOST.  9 

that  night.  The  lead  had  come  to  him  and  he  was 
on  the  point  of  swinging  out  with  the  king  of 
trumps  when  Boost,  at  his  left,  cried,  "  Good 
Heavens  !  "  and  let  his  fan  of  cards  fall  to  the  floor. 
At  the  same  moment  Tree  ford,  who  stood  among 
the  spectators,  uttered  a  guttural  sound  as  of  horror 
and  clung  to  the  person  nearest  him.  Both  men 
were  gazing  in  a  stricken,  helpless  manner  at  the 
space  behind  Puffer's  chair,  the  identical  arm-chair, 
roomy  and  softly-cushioned,  which  for  many  years 
had  been  taken  nightly  by  Uncle  Gus. 

"What's  the  row  now?"  "What's  up?" 
"  Another  ghost  ?  "  "  Give  us  a  rest  !  "  were  some 
of  the  ejaculations  of  the  little  group.  Whereupon 
Boost  and  Treeford  gravely  averred  that  they  had 
seen  Uncle  Gus  in  the  rear  of  Puffer,  leaning  over 
him  and  placidly  smiling  at  his  cards. 

Questioned  by  some  earnestly  and  by  others 
facetiously,  they  agreed  in  the  most  trivial  items  as 
to  the  appearance  of  the  phantom,  and  these  again 
harmonized  with  Quayle's  story.  Even  down  to 
the  rose-bud  and  geranium  leaf  which  decorated  the 
lapel  of  the  dress  coat  he  wore  on  both  occasions — 
and  in  which  he  had  been  buried. 

The  game  thus  interrupted  was  not  renewed,  all 
interest  being  absorbed  by  the  startling  incident  of 
the  night,  with  the  sole  exception  that  Puffer 
wanted  to  play  out  his  extraordinary  hand.  The 


10  THE   ENCHANTED. 

fact  that  two  new  men  claimed  to  have  seen  Uncle 
Gus,  and  by  their  emphatic  words  and  still  more 
their  looks  sustained  that  statement,  lessened  some- 
what the  volume  of  jeers  with  which  Ouayle's  tale 
had  been  received.  Several  persons  present  in- 
clined to  regard  the  matter  seriously.  They  said, 
"  Well,  after  all,  who  knows?"  and  "  Why  not?" 
and  two  at  the  same  instant  repeated  what  Hamlet 
remarked  to  his  incredulous  friends  about  his 
father's  ghost.  This  reminded  some  one  to  empha- 
size the  coincidence  that  the  specter,  or  whatever 
it  was,  had  been  seen  so  far  only  by  Uncle  Gus's 
special  intimates,  as  was  proper  and  to  be  expected. 
Somebody  else  pointed  to  the  circumstance  that  the 
hour  (past  midnight)  was  favorable  to  ghostly  mani- 
festations. For  these  reasons  the  ghost  theory,  as 
against  the  supposition  of  a  practical  joke,  or  dis- 
ordered livers  or  heads,  gained  several  adherents  in 
the  card  room  that  night. 

On  a  certain  Saturday  night,  a  few  weeks  after 
this  occurrence,  the  regular  club  dinner  had  been 
protracted  to  a  late  hour  by  speeches,  stories,  and 
songs.  The  bright,  warm  room  was  so  cheerful  by 
contrast  with  the  cold  rain  pattering  against  the 
windows,  that  the  feasters  were  loth  to  quit  the 
table  and  go  home.  Nearly  every  one  had  been 
toasted  and  had  contributed  his  mite  to  the  enter- 
tainment. Then  began  a  series  of  impromptu 


UNCLE   GUS'S  GHOST.  u 

healths  to  absentees,  which  were  responded  to  by 
their  friends  present  in  a  humorous  strain  of  com- 
pliment to  the  missing  ones.  While  the  merriment 
was  at  its  height,  a  young  man  of  a  sentimental 
aspect  rose  and  gave  a  preparatory  "  ahem  !  "  All 
turned  to  him,  and  when  they  observed  the  gravity 
of  his  face  they  knew  that  Fullkirk  was  about  to 
say  something  in  earnest,  as  was  his  custom.  It 
was  because  of  his  earnestness,  which  afforded  relief 
from  the  habitual  frolicsome  mood  of  the  Hail- 
fellows,  that  he  was  always  heard  with  strict  atten- 
tion—especially as  his  remarks  were  never  long. 
He  raised  a  glass  and  said  in  a  voice  tremulous  with 
emotion,  "  Gentlemen,  let  us  drink  in  silence  to  the 
memory  of  Uncle  Gus."  There  was  a  dead  hush  as 
all  rose  and  lifted  glasses  to  lips.  Only  a  few  smiled 
at  the  thought — which  all  had  in  mind — that  Uncle 
Gus  might  improve  the  opportunity  to  reappear  to 
those  privileged  beings  who  had  eyes  to  see  him. 
As  glasses  were  drained,  there  was  a  general  expec- 
tation that  something  startling  would  occur — and  it 
did.  Five  glasses  simultaneously  shivered  on  the 
table  or  floor  as  they  dropped  from  uplifted  hands, 
and  from  different  parts  of  the  room  were  heard 
cries  of  "  There  he  is!"  "  No  mistake  this  time!" 
"  It's  Uncle  Gus,  sure !  "  and  the  like,  and  five  men 
pointed  at  the  chair  which  had  always  been  reserved 
for  the  departed  Swann  at  the  oval  in  the  center. 


12  THE   ENCHANTED. 

Before  the  general  coinpany  could  do  more  than 
glance  at  the  chair,  which  was  then  tenanted  by  a 
stout,  red-faced  man,  looking  as  little  like  a  ghost  as 
possible,  the  faces  of  the  five  became  chap-fallen 
and  blank.  Nobody  needed  to  be  told  that  what- 
ever they  had  seen  had  disappeared.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  cross-fire  of  raillery  and  questioning  which 
they  met  as  best  they  could.  In  their  stories  there 
was  perfect  harmony.  They  had  all  seen  Uncle 
Gus,  erect  behind  that  chair,  wearing  the  historic 
dress  suit,  boutonniere,  and  smile.  His  head  was 
slightly  bent  forward  as  if  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  compliment  paid  him.  One  hand  was  raised  as 
if  to  make  a  gesture  of  modest  deprecation.  From 
this  statement  the  five — who  included  the  grave 
Fullkirk- — could  not  be  shaken.  If  it  was  a  "  put  up 
job,"  as  the  skeptical  ones  continued  to  insist,  the 
scheme  was  a  masterpiece  of  concerted  action. 

The  ghost  theory  made  new  converts,  especially 
when  it  was  remarked  that  the  clock  had  struck 
twelve  just  previous  to  the  alleged  appearance  of 
Uncle  Gus,  and  also  that  the  five  who  claimed  to 
have  seen  him  were  his  oldest  and  dearest  friends, 
and  therefore,  according  to  ghost  lore,  most  likely 
to  be  favored  with  the  spectacle.  It  is  true  that 
these  comprised  the  three  who  had  previously  be- 
held him  in  the  spirit — thus  making  the  number  of 
witnesses  small  relative  to  the  whole  club  member- 


UNCLE   GUS'S  677(9 .V  7".  13 

ship.  As  the  case  stood,  the  five  were,  by  a  consid- 
erable majority,  believed  to  have  played  a  good 
joke  in  a  manner  reflecting  great  credit  on  their 
ability  as  liars  and  amateur  actors. 

Those  members  who  still  clung  to  the  supernatural 
theory  commented  on  what  they  called  a  "  singular 
coincidence,"  serving  to  explain  why  Uncle  Gus  never 
again  visited  the  Hailfellows.  At  a  date  soon  after 
that  memorable  dinner  the  club  proceeded  to  carry 
out  a  plan  of  altering  the  house,  which  he  had 
always  opposed.  This  consisted  of  moving  the  card 
room  from  the  second  to  the  third  floor,  where  more- 
space  could  be  provided  for  the  players,  by  abolish- 
ing a  partition  and  throwing  two  rooms  together. 
The  estimated  cost  was  small  and  Uncle  Gus's  sole 
objection  to  it  was  that  he  did  not  want  to  climb 
two  flights  of  stairs.  If  one  may  grant  the  survival 
of  earthly  passions  and  prejudices  beyond  the  grave, 
it  might  follow  that  in  another,  even  though  a  better, 
world,  this  lamented  uncle  would  continue  to  be  so 
sensitive  on  the  subject  as  to  cut  the  club  which 
had  taken  advantage  of  his  death  to  disregard  his 
wishes.  Though  (and  this  was  a  strong  point  on 
the  other  side)  it  really  would  not  seem  to  matter 
much  to  a  ghost,  whether  the  card  room  was  pro- 
moted one  flight  or  not,  since  Uncle  Gus  no  longer 
required  legs  to  take  him  up-stairs  and  could  not 
sit  down  and  play  when  he  got  there. 


14  THE  ENCHANTED. 

In  these  discussions  there  were  t\vo  members,  in 
good  and  regular  standing",  who  took  no  part.  They 
were  Messrs.  Meldrum  and  Wadlow.  The  altitude 
they  held  was  that  of  agnostics  ;  they  neither  af- 
firmed nor  denied.  They  waited  for  more  light, 
which  never  came.  It  never  does  come.  But 
though  they  reached  no  satisfactory  conclusion 
about  this  particular  ghost,  they  struck  a  trail  which 
led,  by  devious  windings,  to  the  remarkable  results 
set  forth  in  the  pages  following. 

Investigating  the  old  theory  of  projected  mental 
images  as  explanatory  of  specters,  they  found  that, 
with  their  eyes  tight  shut  and  an  intense  concentra- 
tion of  memory  and  will,  the}'  could  see  an)'  quan- 
tity of  ghosts.  They  could  call  up  shades  of 
Uncle  Gns  and  other  dead  people,  and  living  ones 
too — these  being  pictured  on  the  inside  of  the  lids, 
as  it  seemed  to  the  startled  experimenters.  But 
the  forms  were  all  faint  and  transitory,  like  celes- 
tial nebulae,  whose  outlines  can  be  traced  for  a  mo- 
ment only  and  then  become  confused  and  vanish. 

When  Meldrum  tried  what  he  could  do  with  his 
favorite  heroes  and  heroines  of  fiction,  his  success  was 
amazing,  and  Wadlow's  no  less  so.  Jeanie  Deans, 
Edgar  of  Ravenswood,  Colonel  Newcome,  Becky 
Sharp,  Pickwick,  Little  Nell,  Romola,  Dorothea, 
Jane  Eyre,  Donatello,  Uncas,  Rip  Van  Winkle,  and 
others,  whose  mimic  lives  had  passed  into  their  own 


U\rCLE   GUS'S  GHOST.  15 

through  the  wonderful  medium  of  the  printed  page, 
could  be  plainly  seen  in  figure,  face,  and  dress  against 
the  fleshly  curtain,  and  did  not  disappear  till  the  eye- 
balls became  heated  and  pained  with  the  strain  of 
holding  them  to  the  work. 

o 

Seeking  to  explain  why  these  fictitious  ideals  were 
so  much  more  distinct  to  the  inward  vision  than  the 
real  men  and  women  they  had  known,  the  t\vo 
friends  concluded  that  the  former  had  been  stamped 
on  tlicir  minds  in  deeper  lines  and  stronger  colors  by  f/te 
genius  tliat  had  created  tlicm.  Uncle  Toby  was  more 
of  a  reality  than  Uncle  Gus.  No  lady  of  their  ac- 
quaintance was  half  as  sharply  defined  as  Olivia 
Primrose.  How  much  they  owed  to  pictures, 
statues,  plays  as  accessories  they  could  not  deter- 
mine. JUit  the  cardinal  fact  of  the  superior  distinct- 
ness of  all  these  purely  fanciful  characters  they  at- 
tributed to  the  wonder-working  genius  that  lay 
behind  them,  and  to  which  painter,  sculptor,  actor, 
were  only  supernumerary. 

Having  gone  so  far  in  a  new  line  of  psychical 
research,  it  needed  but  another  step  to  take  Mel- 
drum  and  Wadlow  into  an  enchanted  realm  where 
they  were  the  first  to  set  foot. 

This  book  records  some  of  their  surprising  adven- 
tures prior  to  the  organization  of  the  New  Psychical 
Club,  which  will  prosecute  the  same  interesting  class 
of  experiments  in  a  wider  field,  with  such  a  variety 


iG 

of  earnest  minds  at  work  as  will,  it  may  be  hoped, 
develop  all  the  possibilities  of  the  new  science. 
Those  fully  qualified  for  enrollment  among  THE 
ENCHANTED  may  prove  to  be  few.  Still  fewer  may 
be  the  TRUE  ENCHANTERS  themselves.  It  is  not 
within  the  sovereign  power  of  many  authors  of  all 
the  past  to  link  their  inspirations  to  places  so  that 
these  will  be  inseparably  connected  for  ages  to 
come,  as  Sleepy  Hollow  will  be  identified  with  Icha- 
bod  Crane  and  Alloway  Kirk"  with  Tain  (/Shunter. 
What  the  passing  generation  of  bards  and  novel 
ists  can  do  toward  supplying  THE  ENCHANTED  with 
their  ethereal  food  it  remains  for  future  generations 
of  their  readers  to  find  out.  The  adjustment  of 
their  claims  to  rank  now  among  TRUE  ENCHANTER^ 
does  not  come  within  the  present  writer's  province. 
Time  tries  all. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MELDRUM  AND  WADLOW,  OF  NEW  YORK,  MAKE  A 
DISCOVERY  AND  ARE  DISCREDITED. 

IN  the  autumn  of  1888,  Mr.  Felix  Mcldrum  and 
his  friendliest  of  friends,  Mr.  Madison  YVadlow,  made 
a  little  sentimental  journey  in  picturesque  West- 
chester  County,  New  York.  A  holiday  had  released 
them  from  the  monotonous  grind  of  business  in  the 
city.  They  profited  by  the  respite  to  gratify  a  long 
cherished  wish  to  visit  Foe's  cottage  at  Fordham. 
Its  occupant  courteously  permitted  them  to  in- 
spect every  nook  and  corner  of  the  humble  dwell- 
ing. They  sat  in  the  poet's  favorite  arm-chair. 
They  rested  their  elbows  in  contemplative  posture  on 
the  small,  square  deal  table  at  which  he  had  written 
some  of  his  most  admired  poems  and  stories. 
They  looked  out  of  window  at  the  back  of  the 
house  upon  a  brown  landscape  from  which  that 
powerful  and  unique  genius  might  have  drawn 
liis  gloomiest  inspirations.  This  conventional  hom- 
age having  been  duly  paid  by  the  two  friends  to 
the  memory  of  Poc,  they  left  the  cottage  with 
a  sense  of  satisfaction  tempered  only  by  the 


1 8  THE  EXC1IAXTED. 

regret  that  they  had  identified  nothing  in  its 
interior  with  the  well  remembered  effusions  of 
his  wonderful  pen. 

Then  they  resumed  their  standard  gait  of  four 
miles  an  hour  along  a  hilly  and  dusty  road.  An 
impulse — which  may  be  indulged  with  safety  in  any 
rural  environ  of  New  York— to  quit  the  highway 
and  take  to  the  fields  and  woods,  suddenly  sei/.ed 
the  pedestrians.  They  jumped  over  a  broken 
stone  wall  and  struck  a  cow  path.  This  led  through 
a  large  meadow,  full  of  golden-rod  and  late  asters, 
to  a  thick  clump  of  trees  which  masked  the 
further  view.  As  they  followed  the  narrow,  well- 
worn  track,  the}'  heedlessly  beheaded  the  flowers 
with  quick'  strokes  of  their  walking  sticks  and  recited 
such  snatches  of  Poe's  verses  as  occurred  to  them. 

"He  |  meaning  the  author  of  the  Raven  j  must 
often  have  rambled  over  these  grounds  so  near  his 
house,"  said  Meldrum.  "What  if  we  should  light 
on  some  scene  he  has  described." 

"  That  would  be  a  godsend,"  responded  his 
equally  sentimental  friend.  "  13ut  3*011  know  Poe's 
realm  was  the  supernatural.  lie  looked  for  his 
cues  and  hints  within,  not  without." 

"True;  but  no  poet  is  so  continuously  intro- 
spective as  to  be  wholty  free  from  the  influence 
of  Nature.  In  her  somber  or  her  joyous  aspects, 
she  insensibly  ministers  to  him." 


A    DISCREDITED  DI SCOTER  Y.  19 

"  Here,  if  anywhere,  we  may  test  your  dictum," 
said  Wadlow,  laughing,  "  for,  if  I  mistake  not,  yon- 
der is  a  scene  that  would  have  fed  Poe's  mel- 
ancholy at  the  source."  He  pointed  to  a  little 
vale  into  which  they  could  peep  between  the 
thick  columnar  trunks  of  the  trees  ahead.  It 
was  sunless,  though  the  sky  above  was  bright. 
An  odor,  as  of  stagnant  water  and  rotting  vege- 
tation, saluted  the  friends  as  they  quickened  their 
steps.  In  a  few  moments  they  stood  on  the  edge 
of  a  cup-like  formation  of  land  and  gazed  downward 
in  silence. 

It  was  a  depressing  spectacle  of  Nature  and  Art 
in  abandonment.  In  the  near  foreground  was  a 
large  blackish  pool,  full  of  decaying  autumn  leaves. 
Beyond,  vanishing  in  a  long  perspective  of  parallel 
lines,  were  tall  old  trees,  from  which  the  foliage 
had  been  mostly  stripped  by  the  high  winds.  On 
the  ground  lay  giant  trunks  of  their  dead  breth- 
ren. In  a  cleared  space,  so  contracted  that  the  af- 
ternoon sun  could  not  reach  it  over  the  tops  of  the 
adjoining  somber  pines,  stood  a  large  house,  di- 
lapidated and  seemingly  tenantless.  Its  great  age 
was  apparent  in  the  sunken  condition  of  the 
roof,  which  looked  as  if  ready  to  collapse  with  its 
own  weight.  The  windows  were  broken,  the  chim- 
neys toppling.  The  wood-work  had  lost  its  orig- 
inal paint,  if  it  ever  had  any,  and  was  of  a  dingy  hue, 


20  THE   ENCHANTED. 

freely  streaked  with  patches  of  vegetable  mold. 
The  only  sign  of  life  on  the  premises  was  a  gaunt 
black  cat  which  came  out  of  a  little  jungle  of 
weeds  near  the  house,  and  when  it  sa\vthc  intruders 
darted  into  the  woods  like  a  wild  thing.  A  kitchen 
garden,  filled  with  towering  stalks  of  the  sun- 
flower and  tall  dead  grass  were  appropriate  com- 
ponents of  the  unpleasing  prospect.  The  friends 
looked  upon  the  dismal  scene  without  a  word,  till 
the  same  thought  flashed  upon  both  of  them 
simultaneous]}-. 

"What  is  that  but  the  dank'  tarn  of  Auber?  ''  ex- 
claimed Meldrum,  pointing  to  the  stagnant  poo! 
beneath  them. 

"  And  to  match  it,  there  is  the  ghoul-haunted 
woodland  of  Weir,"  shouted  Wadlow  with  ecstasy. 

"  Ulalume  may  have  been  written  on  this  very 
spot.  The  feeling  and  tone  of  the  place  and  the 
poem  are  the  same,"  rejoined  Meldrum. 

"  Hear  in  mind  that  this  is  October 


the  very  month   rhyming  with   Auber,  you   remem- 
ber," said  Wadlow,  with  awe  in  his  voice. 

"  An  extraordinary  coincidence,  indeed,"  replied 
Meldrum,  who  fully  shared  the  emotion  of  his  com- 
panion. 


A    DISCREDITED  DISCOVERY.  21 

Spcechlessness  seemed  the  proper  tribute  due  to 
a  spot  hallowed  by  such  unmistakable  associations 
with  one  of  the  saddest  and  sweetest  of  poems. 
But  it  was  broken  a  moment  later  by  another  as- 
tounding discovery. 

"  That — is — the — original — of — the — house — of—- 
Usher," whispered  Meldrum,  pale  with  the  excite- 
ment of  the  startling  idea. 

"  Plainly  so,"  rejoined  Wadlow.  "  Its  tottering 
condition  would  suggest  its  impending  fall  to  any- 
body." 

The  two  friends  had  been  so  long  accustomed  to 
one  another's  ways  of  thinking,  that  they  harmo- 
nized spontaneously  upon  a  question  that  then 
arose. 

"  I  do  not  care  to  go  any  nearer,"  said  Meldrum ; 
"  it  might  spoil  the  picture." 

"  Yes,  the  general  view  is  much  the  best  for  stor- 
age in  the  memory.  I  always  want  to  think  that  I 
have  seen,  with  my  own  eyes,  the  dank  tarn  of 
Auber  and  the  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir, 
and  the  house  of  Usher  before  its  fall.  The 
thought  will  enrich  my  whole  life." 

"  Let  us  drink  in  the  scene  for  perhaps  the  last 
time,"  added  Meldrum  solemnly. 

Their  eyes  fondly  lingered  on  every  detail  of  the 
dreary  landscape,  and  then  they  turned  their  backs 
upon  it,  happy  in  an  achievement  of  the  highest 


22  THE   EX  CHARTED. 

import  to  a  pair  of  Poe-worshipers  like  them- 
selves, but  of  no  particular  interest  to  the  world  in 
general. 

In  fact,  Meldrum  and  Wadlow  were  either  list- 
ened to  with  amused  incredulity,  or  else  were 
merciless!}'  chaffed  by  the  Ilailfellows  and  in  society 
whenever  they  vainly  sought — even  from  the  ardent 
admirers  of  Ulalumc — any  sympathy  in  their  own 
pardonable  enthusiasm  over  this  discovery.  They 
found  out  that,  as  a  rule,  one  is  not  paid,  but  must 
himself  pay  handsomely,  for  the  origination  and 
acceptance  of  any  idea  which  may,  perchance, 
reflect  some  credit  on  himself.  To  do  even  so  little 
a  thing  as  to  localize  one  or  two  of  Toe's  wild 
imaginings,  instead  of  being  taken  as  a  service, 
humble  but  real,  to  literature,  was  construed  as  an 
impertinence,  if  not  an  offense. 

There  was  a  run  on  libraries  for  Toe's  life  and 
works  in  order  to  ascertain  facts  and  dates  that 
might  go  to  invalidate  the  modest  claims  of  Mel- 
drum  and  Wadlow. 

Great  was  the  glee  of  one  of  these  envious 
mousers  when  he  showed,  from  a  biography  of  Poc, 
that  his  "Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher"  was  pub- 
lished previous  to  1841,  and  that  he  did  not  take  up 
his  residence  in  Fordham  till  1846. 

Another  skeptic  was  so  anxious  to  deprive  the 
two  gentlemen  of  any  honor  they  might  possi- 


A   DISCREDITED  DISCOVERY.  23 

bly  reap  from  their  researches  in  Westchester,  that 
he  investigated  the  matter  on  the  spot  for  himself, 
and  he  reported  with  face  and  voice  exhibiting  the 
deepest  and  truest  happiness,  that  the  "  dank  tarn 
of  Auber"  was  dug  out  as  a  private  fish  pond 
some  years  after  Poe  wrote  his  poem  of  Ulalume. 
Furthermore,  that  the  old  house  near  Fordham  (the 
existence  of  which,  in  a  tumble-down  state,  was 
admitted  by  the  inquirer)  was,  in  the  year  1841  and 
for  many  years  antecedent,  the  well-carcd-for, 
beautiful  and  happy  home  of  a  large  family,  and 
that  even  if  Poe  had  seen  it  long  previous  to  his 
occupancy  of  the  Fordham  cottage,  it  could  then 
have  given  him  no  clew  to  his  conception  of  the 
deserted,  haunted,  and  doom-laden  Mouse  of  Usher. 

The  bare  assertion  of  these  glaring  anachronisms 
was  received  with  almost  universal  approbation. 
The  suppression  of  Meldrum  and  Wadlow  was 
something  so  very  much  desired  by  their  most 
intimate  acquaintance  that  the  statements  we  have 
cited,  some  of  them  unsupported  by  reference  to 
chapter  and  verse  or  by  any  other  testimony  what- 
ever, were  regarded  as  final  and  overwhelming. 

The  gentlemen  who  were  thus  discredited  were 
foolish  enough,  at  first,  to  make  a  stand  in  behalf  of 
their  contention.  Admitting,  for  argument's  sake, 
that  the  facts  were  as  represented  by  their  oppo- 
nents, there  yet  remained  to  be  explained  away 


24  THE  ENCHANTED. 

that  extremely  gloomy  and  repelling  grove  of  trees 
which  might  justly  have  been  the  original  of  the 
"  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir."  But  they 
were  promptly  convinced  that  only  an  uncondi- 
tional surrender  of  the  theory,  entire,  would  satisfy 
the  demands  of  the  literal ists.  And  they  gave  it 
up. 

It  would  be  untrue  to  say  that  the  doubts  raised 
by  these  discussions  had  not  influenced  the  minds 
of  Meldrum  and  Wadlow  ;  but  if  they  confessed 
that  they  had  been  harboring  any  illusion,  they  did 
not  wish  it  dispelled.  They  preferred,  if  need  be, 
to  shut  their  eyes  tight  and  remain  under  the 
dominion  of  the  enchanter  whose  genius  had  lent, 
for  them  if  for  nobody  else,  an  irresistible  charm  to 
a  spot  elsewise  but  commonplace  in  its  desolation, 
whenever  it  was  recalled  to  memory  as  a  blessed 
relief  from  the  painful  stress  of  the  working-day 
world. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THEY  YIELD  TO  IRVING    THE    ENCHANTER,  AND    RE- 
PRODUCE A  "  FETE  CHAMPETRE"  OE  THE 

SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY. 

THE  stir  and  clamor  of  an  elevated  railway  station 
in  New  York  are  emphatically  unfavorable  to  men- 
tal abstraction.  But  in  spite  of  these  manifest 
drawbacks  it  was  in  just  such  a  focus  of  noise  and 
excitement  that  Meldrum  and  Wadlow,  a  few  weeks 
after  the  adventure  already  narrated,  made  an  ex- 
periment, the  success  of  which  depended  on  com- 
plete intellectual  isolation  from  all  disturbances. 
The  making  of  this  experiment — the  fortunate  re- 
sult of  which  was  destined  thenceforth  to  contrib- 
ute so  freely  to  the  innocent  pleasure  of  the  two 
friends — was  not  the  formal  submission  of  a  slowly 
ripening  theory  to  a  test,  but  the  merest  of  acci- 
dents. They  had  scaled  the  heights  of  the  station 
at  Battery  Place,  only  to  see  the  wicket  slammed  in 
their  faces  and  the  train  which  they  had  hurried  to 
catch  rolling  northward.  To  kill  a  few  minutes' 
time  they  leaned  over  the  platform  balustrade  and 
looked  idly  down  on  the  open  space  which  was  once 

25 


26  THE   EXCHAXTED. 

the  only  pleasure  ground  of  New  York",  now  cut  up 
and  spoiled  by  that  quintessence  of  ugliness,  an 
elevated  railway  of  iron,  whose  rude  and  reckless 
architecture  torments  the  eye,  while  the  snorts  and 
the  sulphurous  stenches  of  its  locomotives  affront 
the  ear  and  nose  intolerably.  What  was  once  the 
favorite  resort  of  Fashion  and  Beauty  is  now  given 
over  to  immigrants,  whose  right  to  enjoy  the  after- 
noon sea-breeze  and  what  little  remains  of  the  old 
trees  and  verdure  no  one  disputes.  But  one  may 
be  willing  to  leave  them  unmolested  in  their  posses- 
sion of  the  Battery,  and  still  regret  the  absence  of 
so  much  that  used  to  give  brightness  and  gayety  to 
the  lovely  promenade  ground  of  Irving's  day. 

It  was  their  keen  recollection  of  the  Battery  of 
the  seventeenth  century  as  Irving  describes  it — con- 
trasting that  charming  pen-picture  with  the  scrap 
of  barren  landscape  before  their  eyes — that  put 
Meldrum  and  Wadlow  on  the  definite  track  of  a 
new  idea. 

To  recall  Irving  and  dwell  fondly  upon  him, 
almost  of  necessity  brings  back  to  the  mind  of 
those  who  thoroughly  know  the  writings  of  that 
first  and  best  of  American  humorists,  his  freshest 
and  most  amusing  book — "Knickerbocker's  History 
of  New  York."  The  two  friends  knew  it  by  heart, 
and  could  not  have  appreciated  its  geniality  and 
unctuousness  more  thoroughly  had  they  been  scions 


IRVING    THE   ENCHANTER*  27 

of  the  oldest  and  purest  Manhattan  stock  instead  of 
lineal  descendants  of  those  Yankees  whom  Irving 
satirized  as  the  smileless  and  grasping  neighbors 
and  rivals  of  his  jolly  and  confiding  Dutchmen. 

Fixing  their  eyes  meditatively  on  a  little  patch 
of  withered  grass  which  still  lingered  to  tell  of  what 
the  Battery  was  in  its  ancient  prime  of  greenness, 
the  same  scene  out  of  the  glowing  pages  of  Geoffrey 
Crayon  came  unbidden  to  their  brains.  It  was  that 
of  the  Saturday  afternoon  revels  held  on  the  Bat- 
tery in  the  good  old  days  of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  Gov- 
ernor of  New  Amsterdam. 

Meldrum  and  Wadlow  had  often  spoken  to  one 
another  of  the  graphic  and  racy  descriptions  of 
those  gatherings  as,  on  the  whole,  the  most  ludi- 
crous and  vivid  ever  penned  by  the  enchanter  of 
Sunnyside. 

"Can't  we  conjure  it  out  of  the  void?"  asked 
Meldrum. 

"  We  can  try,"  was  Wacllow's  response.  He 
knew  without  a  word  of  explanation  of  what  his 
friend  was  thinking,  so  conversant  was  he  with  his 
literary  tastes  and  his  habits  of  mental  association. 

"  Call  that  the  green  lawn  where  the  burghers 
and  vrows,  the  young  men  and  maidens,  assembled 
by  the  golden  light  of  the  afternoon  sun  for  their 
weekly  dance  and  frolic."  Meldrum  was  looking 
hard  at  a  burnt  grassy  space,  barely  large  enough 


28 

to  accommodate  two  quadrilles  of  our  day,  still  less 
the  extended  mazes  of  the  dance  in  which  all  the 
able-bodied  subjects  of  Peter  Stuyvesant  took-  a  leg 
together. 

"  Take  down  those  miserable  posts  and  chains  ; 
turf  over  those  black,  crumbling  concrete  walks ; 
restore  some  of  the  mighty  spreading  trees  that 
have  been  felled  by  modern  vandals.  First,  briny 
back  the  scene  and  then  perhaps  we  can  summon 
up  the  actors,"  said  \Yadlo\v. 

The  other  nodded  and  both  bent  their  minds  to 
the  pleasing  task. 

"That  will  hold  them  all,  I  should  say,"  and 
Mel  drum  outlined  roughly  with  his  cane,  the  area 
which  he  would  rescue  from  its  baser  uses,  and 
devote  to  the  forthcoming  festivities. 

"That's  about  what  I  myself  had  set  apart,"  said 
his  friend.  "  Let  us  each  take  our  time  and  call 
out  when  he  sees  anything  worth  mentioning." 

Two  or  three  minutes  elapsed  before  the  inefface- 
able pictures  which  each  carried  in  the  recesses  of 
his  head  could  be  successfully  projected  upon  the 
ground  beneath  them,  like  the  images  of  a  magic 
lantern  upon  a  canvas.  Both  breathed  hard  and 
both  turned  pale  under  a  mental  strain  as  they 
labored  at  the  concentration  of  thought  indispen- 
sable for  the  purpose. 

Meldrum    was    the    first    to    break    the    truce    of 


IRVIXG    THE   EXCHAXTER.  29 

silence,  which  he  did  with  marked  tremor  in  his 
voice. 

"  I've  got  the  crowd  all  right.  About  a  thousand 
people  I  should  say.  The  women — 

Wadlow  snatched  the  words  from  his  lips — "  The 
women  with  hair  pomatumed  back  from  their  fore- 
heads, and  covered  with  smart  little  calico  caps." 

"  Exactly,"  interrupted  Mcldrum.  "  Their  petti- 
coats catch  my  eye.  They  are  so  gay  and — • 
short." 

"  Luckily  so,  or  we  should  not  be  treated  to  a 
sight  of  those  long  blue  worsted  stockings  with 
magnificent  red  clocks,  and  trim  ankles  and  shapely 
feet  set  off  with  silver-buckled  shoes.  Delightful 
to  get  back  to  those  good  old  fashions,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed.  But  we  can't  say  as  much  for  the 
men's  costumes.  Think  of  putting  on  six  pairs  of 
breeches  every  morning.  Some  of  the  dashing 
young  fellows  down  there  have  ten,  Knickerbocker 
tells  us." 

"The  fun  is  about  to  begin.  There's  the  dear 
old  Governor  himself.  I  should  know  him  any- 
where by  his  wooden  leg,  inlaid  with  silver,  and  his 
brimstone-colored  trunks." 

"  In  his  right  hand  he  carries  a  gold-headed  cane 
and  his  left  rests  upon  the  hilt  of  his  trusty  sword. 
Do  you  observe  who  is  speaking  to  him  as  he  takes 
the  chair  of  state  under  that  great  elm  ?  " 


3°  THE   ENCHANTED. 

"Who  else  but  our  old  friend  Antony  Van 
Corlear,  master  of  ceremonies,  with  his  trumpet, 
his  long  red  nose,  his  huge  whiskers,  and  his 
invincible  ways  with  women.  Even  now,  as  he 
whispers  to  the  Governor,  he  is  winking  at  a  pretty 
girl  over  his  excellency's  right  shoulder." 

"  It  is  a  long  distance  to  see  a  wink,  but  I  think  I 
caught  it,  too." 

"  See,  the  lusty  bachelor  raises  his  trumpet  to  his 
lips  and  gives  a  blast,  which  I  am  not  sorry  we 
can't  hear.  It  is  the  signal  for  dancing.  Those 
two  darkies  on  the  Governor's  left  supply  the 
music." 

"  How  quickly  the  young  people  respond.  In  a 
moment  they  have  filled  all  the  space  left  them  by 
the  worthy  burghers,  who  sit  around  them  in  a 
great  circle,  placidly  smoking  their  big  Dutch 
pipes,  while  their  vrows  knit  and  sew  and  gossip 
and  look  on." 

The  friends  watched  the  rapid  progress  of  the 
dance  with  much  interest,  occasionally  exchanging 
comments  on  the  conspicuous  gallantries  of  that 
desperate  rogue,  Antony  the  Trumpeter,  whose 
only  compensation  as  director  of  entertainments 
was  the  right  of  kissing  all  the  good-looking 
women,  married  or  single.  Those  who  danced  the 
longest,  tiring  out  all  their  competitors,  were 
specially  rewarded,  if  not  ill-favored,  with  a  hearty 


IRVING    THE   ENCHANTER.  31 

smack  administered  by  the  great  Petrus  himself  in 
his  executive,  semi-paternal  capacity. 

"  It  was  something  to  be  a  governor  in  those 
days,"  remarked  Meldrum,  as  the  first  dance  was 
concluded  and  a  number  of  buxom,  rosy-cheeked 
damsels  stepped  forward  to  receive  the  official  re- 
ward. 

"  But  better  to  be  a  trumpeter,"  rejoined  his 
comrade.  "  Observe  the  muck  that  rascal  An- 
tony is  now  running  among  the  petticoats,  the 
fair  owners  of  which  always  make  a  dumb  show  of 
struggling  with  him,  but  finally  surrender  to  their 
fate  and  retire,  laughing,  to  repair  their  damaged 
headgear  and  neckkerchiefs." 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  two  old  ne- 
groes who  stood  near  the  Governor's  chair  screwed 
up  their  fiddles,  holding  them  fondly  to  their  ears, 
snapped  the  strings  with  their  fingers,  drew  the  bow 
across  them,  and  would  have  produced  the  same 
twanging  and  discordant  notes  which  are  invariably 
extracted  from  catgut  during  the  process  of  tuning 
up  had  those  rasping  sounds  fortunately  not  been 
inaudible  to  Meldrum  and  Wadlow. 

A  little  breathing  time  was  required,  too,  by  the 
belles  and  beaux.  They  had  danced  conscien- 
tiously with  a  fervor  unknown  to  modern  fetes 
cJiampctrcs.  Layers  of  breeches  and  petticoats,  in 
number  like  the  skins  of  an  onion,  were  conducive 


32  THE   ENCHANTED. 

to  heat  under  an  unclouded  sun  ;  but  fashion,  which 
ruled  as  tyrannically  then  as  now,  would  not  permit 
one  of  those  integuments  to  be  peeled  off,  though 
their  wearers  were  roasting  alive  in  them.  There 
was  no  relief  but  in  cooling  down  slowly,  the  pro- 
cess being  aided  by  copious  draughts  of  cider  anil 
home-brewed  beer,  which  were  fetched  from  neigh- 
boring booths  by  attentive  swains  for  their  ladies, 
and  quaffed  by  them  with  undisguised  satisfaction. 
The  swains  themselves  preferred,  for  the  same  sani- 
tary purpose,  the  genuine  Hollands  and  cherry 
brandy  which  the  ever-thoughtful  Governor  always 
provided  free  for  these  entertainments.  When,  fur- 
thermore, capacious  pipes  of  tobacco  had  been 
smoked  deliberately  down  to  the  last  whiff,  the 
gallants  proclaimed  themselves  refreshed  and  all 
ready  for  another  turn  upon  the  sward. 

Antony  Van  Corlear  raised  his  trumpet  to  his 
thick  lips  as  a  signal  for  the  next  dance;  the 
fiddlers  tucked  their  instruments  under  their  chins 
and  scraped  the  opening  bars  of  a  jig  ;  the  laughing 
couples  were  preparing  to  take  their  places,  when 
Meldrum  and  Wadlow  saw  a  handsome,  smartly- 
dressed  young  girl  dash  into  the  center  of  the  still 
unoccupied  space,  hand  in  hand  with  her  partner. 
As  the  two  came  to  the  front,  all  the  other  dancers 
fell  back  a  little  by  common  consent,  and  watched 
one  of  the  figures  with  an  earnest  curiosity  that  was 


IRVING    THE  ENCHANTER.  33 

fully  shared  by  the  nineteenth  century  spectators 
up  there  on  the  elevated  railway  platform. 

"  It  is  the  young  belle  just  from  Holland,"  said 
Meld  rum. 

"  Easily  recognized  by  the  unusual  shortness  of 
her  petticoats.  We  must  take  the  grave  historian's 
statement  of  their  number  as  only  six  for  granted. 
From  our  point  of  view — which  is  not  quite  as  good 
as  I  should  like — we  cannot  count  them." 

"  She  is  about  to  execute  the  famous  new  jig 
taught  to  her  by  the  dancing  master  of  Rotter- 
clam  ! " 

"  I  am  all  eyes." 

Dicclrich  Knickerbocker  has  chosen  to  leave  pos- 
terity to  judge  of  this  novel  Rotterdam  jig  by  its 
effects  alone.  These  were  remarkable  as  recorded 
by  that  veracious  chronicler  and  observed  by  the 
spellbound  Meldrum  and  Wadlow. 

"  It  takes  with  the  young  fellows.  She'll  be  in 
great  demand  as  a  partner." 

"  Though,  as  a  spectator,  one  sees  it  to  better 
advantage." 

"The  older  ladies — those  with  marriageable 
daughters  at  their  side— scowl  at  it.  But  that  is 
only  human  nature." 

"  And  the  daughters  themselves  pout  their  dis- 
approval. But  they  will  all  want  to  learn  the  dance 
when  they  see  how  the  young  fellows  like  it." 


34  THE  ENCHANTED. 

"  The  doughty  old  Governor  himself  is  beginning 
to  be  agitated.  While  he  does  not  take  his  eyes 
for  an  instant  from  the  center  of  attraction,  his 
frown  shows  ho\v  much  he  disapproves  of  the  new- 
fangled jig.  What  would  he  say  of  the  modern 
ballet,  I  wonder?  " 

"  Do  look  at  that  scapegrace  Anton}-  !  Nothing 
could  be  more  to  his  taste.  With  eyes  riveted  on 
the  whirling  nymph,  he  is  mastering  the  intricacies 
of  the  new  dance.  If  he  could  have  his  own  way, 
he  would  insist  on  its  universal  adoption — at  least 
by  the  younger  and  handsomer  of  the  fair  Man- 
hattancse." 

At  this  juncture  that  startling  incident  occurred 
of  which  the  excellent  Diedrich  gives  the  scantiest 
of  particulars.  Ilis  readers  arc  only  informed  that 
it  produced  great  consternation  among  all  the  ladies 
present  ;  that  the  gravest  of  the  male  spectators, 
who  had  hitherto  maintained  their  equanimity, 
were  not  a  little  moved;  and  that  the  good  old 
Peter  Stuyvesant  himself  was  grievously  scandal- 
ized. In  a  less  primitive  state  of  society  all  these 
profound  emotions — whatever  their  cause — would 
have  been  gracefully  masked  and  there  would  have 
been  no  perceptible  disturbance. 

Meldrum  and  Wadlow,  taking,  as  they  necessarily 
did,  a  bird's-eye  view  of  things,  were  in  no  position 
to  explain  what  must,  therefore,  ever  remain  a  pro- 


IRVING    THE  ENCHANTER.  35 

found  mystery.  They,  in  common  with  the  rest  of 
mankind,  only  knew  that  the  Governor  improved 
the  critical  occasion  by  recommending,  on  the 
spot,  that  every  petticoat  should  henceforth  be 
eked  out  by  a  flounce.  Also,  that  he  forbade, 
under  the  pain  and  penalty  of  his  high  displeasure, 
any  young  lady  to  attempt  what  was  then  termed 
exhibiting  the  graces,  but  would  now  be  called  the 
poetry  of  motion.  And  this  is  the  right  place  to 
remind  the  student  of  fashions  and  of  sumptuary 
legislation  that  the  most  paternal  of  governors 
made  a  bad  failure  of  his  decree  about  the  ladies' 
dresses  of  his  day.  For  the  gentle  sex,  upon 
whose  hearty  approval  and  co-operation  he  had 
innocently  relied,  declared  a  revolt  against  his  edict 
and  threatened,  if  the  matter  were  pushed  to  an 
issue,  to  discard  altogether  the  garments  with  which 
he  was  presumptuously  meddling. 

Such,  at  least,  was  the  alarming  report  made  to 
his  excellency  by  his  trusted  confidant,  the  burly 
trumpeter,  who  knew  the  women  of  New  Amster- 
dam better  than  any  other  man;  and  who  had  not 
been,  in  the  slightest  degree,  disturbed  by  the  un- 
toward incident  that  had  thrown  everybody  else 
into  such  a  flutter. 

The  charming  center  and  object  of  all  this  dire 
commotion  was  still  spinning  round  in  the  arms  of 
her  nimble  partner, — unconscious,  like  himself,  of 


3  &  THE  ENCHANTED. 

what  had  happened, — and  Meldrum  and  Wadlow 
were  still  doing  the  best  they  could  to  sec  the  mi- 
nuter details  of  the  spectacle  without  opera-glasses, 
when  their  day-dream  was  suddenly  shattered  by  a 
voice  behind  : 

"  I  say,  w'ot  ycr  lookin'  at  yonder?  Give  a  feller 
a  peep,  can't  ycr?" 

"  Your  best  chance  is  clown  there,  in  the  front 
row,"  said  Wadlow,  turning  round,  and  still  under 
a  powerful  impression  of  the  reality  of  what  he  had 
imagined. 

The  questioner,  a  rough  fellow,  stared  vacantly  at 
the  open  space  beneath  and  then  at  the  two  friends, 
as  if  doubting  their  sanity.  They,  in  turn,  when 
they  again  cast  their  eyes  at  the  spot,  a  moment 
before  so  crowded  with  life  and  human  interest,  saw 
nothing  to  remind  them  of  the  delightful  dead  and 
gone  Dutchmen  of  Stuyvcsant's  reign  save  a  knot 
of  newly-landed  German  immigrants,  stolidly  smok- 
ing their  pipes  or  nibbling  at  pretzels  as  they 
lounged  along  the  walks. 

Meldrum  snapped  his  watch  open  and  discovered 
to  his  amazement  that  they  had  spent  about  half  an 
hour  and  missed  several  up-town  trains  while  try- 
ing the  reproductive  powers  of  their  imagination  on 
that  consummate  drollery  of  Irving. 

"  It  is  time  well  put  in,"  said  Wadlow. 

"  I  don't  grudge  a  minute  of  it,"  was  the  answer. 


IRVING    THE  ENCHANTER.  37 

As  the  twain  were  jerked  and  jolted  homeward, 
the  many  annoyances  of  a  ride  on  the  elevated  rail- 
way could  not  prevent  them  from  musing  content- 
edly on  the  infinite  prospect  of  pleasure  held  out  to 
them  by  the  surrender  of  their  willing  minds  to  the 
fiat  of  literary  enchanters. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THEIR  MOMENTOUS    EXI'ERIMENT  AT  WKEHAWKEX. 

WHAT  were  the  limitations  of  this  new  gift  of 
whose  delightful  potency  they  had  become  aware? 
Would  it  extend  to  purely  historical  scenes  and 
characters?  If  so,  a  fruitful  field  for  its  exercise 
would  be  opened  up  to  them.  Strange  to  say, 
Irving  is  the  only  true  enchanter  who  has  cast  the 
spell  of  creative  genius  over  any  locality  in  the  great- 
city  of  New  York.  Meld  rum  and  Wadlow  had 
been  tied  down  to  Irving  by  the  very  conditions  of 
the  experiments  they  had  made.  And  they  soon 
exhausted  the  local  material  of  his  bewitching  pages 
in  trials  mostly  unsuccessful  because  the  ancient 
landmarks  were  so  completely  erased.  With  the 
exception  of  the  Battery  and  Bowling  Green,  which 
they  utilized  to  the  utmost,  there  was  little  to  which 
their  faith  could  be  pinned  as  really  identified  with 
any  of  the  abounding  comic  action  of  the  Knicker- 
bocker History. 

In  veritable  historical  events  of  the  profonndcst 
gravity  and  the  liveliest  dramatic  interest,  the  an- 
nals of  the  city  and  vicinity  arc  rich.  If  one  docs  not 

38 


39 

want  to  go  back  more  than  a  hundred  years  he  may 
still  find  in  and  about  New  York  houses  not  yet  razed 
and  places  not  yet  built  over  or  otherwise  changed 
out  of  all  recognition,  whose  connection  with  the 
great  men  and  the  great  deeds  of  the  last  century 
is  established  beyond  dispute.  There  is  no  fun  in 
it  all,  like  that  supersaturating  the  Irving  fictions  of 
Woutcr  Van  Twillcr  and  William  the  Testy.  But 
to  the  patriotic,  worshipful  mind,  it  is  improving  if 
solemn.  At  all  events,  more  congenial  material 
seeming  to  fail,  it  was  the  last  resort  of  Meldrum 
and  Wad  low. 

Casting  about  for  some  subject  matter  for  a  de- 
cisive test,  in  the  application  of  which  they  could 
muster  up  the  needed  enthusiasm,  they  finally 
pitched  on  the  Burr-Hamilton  duel  at  Wechawken. 
As  students  of  their  country's  history  they  had  both 
been  deeply  impressed  by  that  saddest  and  most 
needless  of  our  early  political  tragedies.  It  had 
fixed  itself  in  their  minds  both  by  its  importance 
in  rudely  terminating  the  brilliant  career  of  one  of 
the  most  gifted  and  versatile  public  men  that  ever 
lived  and — perhaps  even  more — by  its  intensely 
spectacular  character.  They  had  read  all  that 
cautious,  impartial  historians  from  time  to  time  had 
said  about  it,  each  one  contributing  his  fresh  little 
grain  of  fact.  They  were  conversant  with  the  par- 
tisan lives  written  respectively  by  friends  and  ad- 


4°  THE  ENCHANTED. 

mirers  and  apologists  of  Burr  and  Hamilton.  These, 
differing  in  much  else,  substantially  agreed  in  their 
versions  of  the  deadly  encounter.  After  all  this 
reading  and  reflection  on  the  causes  and  conse- 
quences of  the  most  famous  of  American  duels,  and 
on  the  striking  personality  of  the  principals,  it  would 
seem  to  be  even  easier  to  cause  that  combat  to  be 
refought  on  the  known  scene  of  its  occurrence  than 
to  conjure  up  the  new  Rotterdam  jig  that  had  only 
been  imagined  by  that  roguish  young  Irving. 

The  two  friends,  in  their  frequent  discussions  of 
this  topic,  did  not  then  realize  the  vast  difference 
between  fiction  told  as  fact  by  some  great  master  of 
the  narrative  art  (whose  genius  stamps  his  most  fan- 
tastic creations  with  the  seal  of  reality)  and  fact  put 
forth  in  affidavit  style  by  some  scrupulous  plodder 
after  the  naked  truth.  They  were  soon  to  learn 
which  was  the  more  suitable  for  the  experiments 
they  were  making. 

One  cool  November  morning,  close  upon  sunrise, 
Meldrum  and  Wad  low  appeared  at  the  foot  of  West 
Seventieth  Street,  where  they  knew  that  some  boat 
could  surely  be  procured  to  carry  them  across  the 
Hudson  to  Wcehawkcn.  They  might  have  made 
the  trip  comfortably  by  steam  ferry  from  Forty- 
second  Street,  but  that  would  have  involved  a  walk 
of  some  distance  to  the  dueling  ground.  They 
preferred  the  more  direct  journey  by  small  boat, 


A    MOMENTOUS   EXPERIMENT.  41 

because  it  was  in  such  a  craft  that  each  of  the  dis- 
tinguished principals,  with  his  second,  traversed  the 
river  on  that  fateful  July  II,  1804,  starting,  as  it 
might  be,  from  that  very  spot.  Making  allowance 
for  the  difference  of  seasons,  the  hour  for  embarking 
was  about  the  same — soon  after  sunrise.  Burr  and 
Hamilton  could  not  have  eaten  much  breakfast  in 
the  haste  of  their  departure,  at  dawn,  for  the  rendez- 
vous. Meldrum  and  Wadlow  had  eaten  none  what- 
ever. They  had  indulged  the  notion,  which  re- 
mained to  be  exploded,  that  their  psychical  power 
(as  they  provisionally  termed  it)  would  probably 
work  better  on  an  empty  stomach  than  a  full  one. 
They  naturally  wished  everything  to  be  highly 
favorable  for  the  forthcoming  test,  the  most  delicate 
and  dubious  hitherto  contrived.  A  good  breakfast 
on  their  return  to  town  by  nine  o'clock,  would  re- 
ward or  console  them,  as  the  case  might  be. 

Only  one  boat  hovered  in  waiting  at  the  foot  of 
Seventieth  Street  when  they  arrived  there  blown 
and  wheezing  from  their  fast  walk.  It  was  a  paint- 
less,  shabby  thing,  with  a  good  deal  of  water  in  it, 
which  the  owner,  a  lank,  slouch-hatted  fellow,  was 
bailing  out  with  a  rusty  tin  dipper. 

"  We  want  your  boat  and  you  with  it,"  was  the 
breathless  request  of  Meldrum. 

For  answer  the  strange  being  shoved  off  out  of 
the  reach  of  the  new-comers  with  a  quick  push  of  oar 


42  77/7:    ENCHANTED. 

and  then  said,  "Wot  fur?"  His  eyes  and  voice  be- 
trayed acute  suspicion  of  something. 

"  To  cross  the  river,"  exclaimed  the  astonished 
Meldrum. 

"  Yes,  1  know.  But  wot  fur  ?  "  repeated  the  boat- 
man, paddling  a  little  further  out. 

Though  vexed  at  losing  time  by  the  colloquy, 
Meldrum  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  man's 
inquisitiveness,  as  he  answered,  "  For  the  .Burr- 
Hamilton  dueling  ground,  and  we  want  you  to 
land  us  as  near  to  it  as  you  can." 

'  Brer  llamerton  drillin'  groun' — I  never  liecrd  of 
it,"  was  the  sullen  retort,  as  the  speaker  put  another 
watery  rod  between  the  strangers  and  himself,  and 
he  added  as  a  clincher,  "  I've  bin  boatin'  roun'  here 
more'n  twenty  year." 

Meldrum  and  Wadlow  joined  in  a  whistle  o»f 
amazement.  They  had  rashly  taken  for  granted 
that  every  river  boatman  whose  station  was  any- 
where opposite  the  Weehawken  shore  must  at  times 
have  ferried  to  it  pilgrims  like  themselves.  They 
had  counted  on  his  services,  if  required,  to  pilot 
them  to  the  scene  of  the  duel  after  landing. 
Though  they  had  no  doubt  about  finding  it  for 
themselves,  failing  a  guide,  so  well  had  they  mas- 
tered the  topography  of  the  subject  by  late  and  as- 
siduous inspections  of  the  best  authorities.  The 
first  thing  was  to  get  over  the  river;  and,  for  some 


A    MOMENTOUS  EXPERIMENT.  43 

reason  far  from  obvious,  the  boatman  was  disinclined 
to  transport  them.  In  fact,  he  was  gently  paddling 
himself  off  all  the  time. 

"What's  the  matter?  Afraid  of  us?"  shouted 
Wad  low. 

"  Well — I  have  ter  look  out  for  myself.  Some- 
times I  gets  taken  in  !  " 

"  Take  us  in  and  you  wont  be,  this  time,"  jocosely 
responded  Meldrum,  producing  a  wad  of  bank-bills 
in  proof  of  good  faith. 

The  man's  frown  relaxed  ;  but  he  was  not  yet 
satisfied.  "  Have  ycr  any  plunder — 1  mean  kits — 
with  yer?"  he  asked,  coming  a  little  nearer. 

"Plunder?  Kits  ?"  echoed  Wadlow.  "  Oh,  you 
mean  baggage  !  None  whatever." 

The  boatman  cast  another  sharp  look  at  his  cus- 
tomers to  be  sure  they  were  not  deceiving  him  ; 
then,  as  if  still  a  little  reluctant,  he  said  :  "  It's 
three  dollars  fur  the  job  over  and  back  inside  two 
hour." 

"  Agreed,"  and  the  paymaster  of  the  twain 
counted  out  the  desired  sum,  which  he  shook  at 
the  man,  who  now,  with  quick  strokes,  brought  his 
leaky  boat  to  shore.  Money  paid  and  friends 
aboard. 

When  they  had  got  fairly  outside  the  pier  heads, 
Meldrum  broke  silence.  "  Come  now,  my  friend, 
what  did  you  take  us  for  ?  Be  honest."  His  kindly 


44  THE   ENCHANTED. 

manner  would  have  disarmed  the  stubborncst  sus- 
picion. 

The  boatman  looked  up  sheepishly.  "  No  of- 
fense, yer  know — I'm  sure  it's  all  right  now — but  I 
jest  thought  yer  might  be — yer  wont  get  mad — 

"  No  !  no— out  with  it  !" 

"  I  thought  mcbbe  yer  were — ycr'll  'xcuse  me,  I 
hopes — thieves — burglars — and  sich  like.  Yer  see 
they  aliens  wants  ter  cross  about  sun-up  and  is  allers 
in  a  tcr'ble  hurry.  That's  yer  case,  ycr'll  allow." 

Bursts  of  laughter  which  threatened  to  shake  the 
old  boat  to  pieces  were  the  response.  Finally  Wad- 
low  commanded  his  features  sufficiently  to  say, 
"So  you  took  us  for  thieves,  burglars,  and  sich  like," 
and  then  went  off  again. 

"  Some  of  'em  dress  better  nor  yer  do,"  was  the 
rower's  candid  remark,  as  he  impelled  his  rickety 
craft  with  powerful  strokes  toward  the  western 
shore. 

"  'Taint  my  line  ter  be  axin  questions  or  mcd- 
dlin' with  other  folks'  bizncss,"  he  continued,  "  but  I 
don't  want  ter  get  inter  no  more  sich  scrapes  as  I 
did  last  Monday  mornin'." 

"  Tell  us  about  it." 

The  boatman  then  told  his  story  glibly,  like 
one  who  had  oft  repeated  it  to  greedy  hearers. 
Stripped  of  his  embellishments  it  amounted  to  this: 
On  the  morning  mentioned  two  men,  as  gentleman- 


A    MOMENTOUS  EXPERIMENT.  45 

like  as  Mold  rum  and  Wadlow,  came  running  down 
to  the  dock  out  of  breath.  They  carried  carpet- 
bags in  their  hands.  They  wanted  to  get  to  Wee- 
hawkcn  in  no  time,  and  would  pay  the  boatman 
double  fare  to  put  in  his  best  licks.  He  (the  narra- 
tor) thought  they  acted  mighty  queer  and  their 
gripsacks  were  uncommon  heavy.  But,  as  he  said, 
he  never  axed  no  questions.  So  he  took  'em  in, 
and  a  pair  o'  jollier  gents  he  never  sec.  They  was 
larfin'  an'  singin'  all  the  way  and  the  furder  they  got 
from  New  York  the  happier  they  seemed.  They'd 
praise  his  rowin'  and  say  as  how  they'd  back  him 
agin  Hanlon.  Then  he'd  pull  on  them  ash  oars 
jest  to  the  brcakin'  pint.  Well,  that  trip  beat  the 
record  by  one  minute  an'  a  half,  an'  when  the  boat 
touched  shore  they  both  said  the  double  fare  was 
well  earned  and  how  thankful  they  was  to  strike 
Jersey  safe  an'  soun'.  Next  thing  he  knew  they 
grabbed  their  kits  and  jumped  off  and  was  over 
the  rocks  and  inter  the  bushes  like  a  flash.  He 
yelled  arter  'em,  "  Gimme  my  money,"  an'  one  of 
'em  yelled  back,  "  Charge  it  to  Slungshot  Jack," 
which  wras  the  name  of  the  biggest  cracksman  in 
the  whole  United  States.  And  what  did  the  gents 
s'pose  they  had  in  them  gripsacks  ?  One  hundred 
thousan'  dollars  in  gole,  silver,  and  bills  !  They'd 
robbed  the  Nash'nal  Dead  Sure  Bank  the  night 
afore.  Think  of  the  low  down  meanness  of  men 


46  THE    EX  CHANTED. 

who  got  a  hundred  thousan'  dollar*  for  nothin',  and 
then  bilked  a  poor  boatman  out  of  his  fare  !  But 
that  warn't  all,  he  added  bitterly  ;  when  he  rowed 
back  ter  the  Ner  York  side,  he  found  two  p'licemen 
waitin'  fur  him,  and  they  'rested  him  as  a  'complice 
fur  helpin'  the  thieves  escape,  and  they  wouldn't 
believe  his  story  of  how  they  cheated  him  out  of 
his  fare.  They  took  him  ter  the  station-house 
where  he  was  held  awhile,  and  then  let  go,  cos 
they  couldn't  prove  nothin'  agin  him.  But  it  was 
hard  lines,  gents,  and  who  could  blame  him  fur  bein' 
a  little  keerful  no\v. 

His  hearers  courteously  expressed  the  interest 
the}'  had  taken  in  this  protracted  tale,  the  murmur 
of  whose  flow  had  been  broken  in  upon  only  by 
the  monotonous  clink  of  the  tin  dipper  against  the 
bottom  of  the  boat  as  Wadlow  ladled  out  water  all 
the  way  across.  They  assured  him  that  he  was 
quite  right  in  being  particular  about  customers. 

Near  the  point  where  they  now  landed  a  man  in 
pea-jacket,  overalls,  and  mangy  fur  cap  was  fishing 
from  a  rock.  By  his  side  was  a  basket  from  which 
he  was  mechanically  helping  himself  to  cold  meat 
and  bread,  while  he  watched  an  unmoving  bit  of 
cork  with  the  patient  hopefulness  of  his  kind. 

"What's  our  short  cut  to  the  Burr-Hamilton 
dueling  ground  ?  "  asked  Meldrum  of  this  pattern 
angler. 


A    MOMENTOUS  EXPERIMENT.  47 

The  man  seemed  to  grudge  withdrawing  his  eyes 
a  second  from  that  stationary  cork.  Without  glanc- 
ing at  the  intruders,  he  answered,  "  Durmo  nothin' 
about  it." 

"  A  stranger  like  ourselves,  I  sec.  I  thought  you 
might  be  living  around  here.  Pardon  1  " 

"  I've  lived  in  these  parts  mornc'n  ten  year'  an' 
it's  the  fust  time  I  ever  heercl  of — wot  dye  call  it?" 

"  The  spot  where  Burr  and  Hamilton  fought  their 
duel.  We  want  to  visit  it." 

At  the  word  "  fought  "  the  man  looked  up,  with 
a  gleam  of  intelligence. 

"  Oh,  it's  the  old  fightin' groun' yer  after!  Fol- 
ler  that  path  about  ten  rod  and  there  ycr  are." 

"  Thanks,"  cried  Meldrum  and  Wadlow,  and 
they  proceeded  to  climb  with  some  difficulty  the 
slippery  rocks  which  the  ebb  tide  had  just  laid 
bare.  As  they  struck  the  path  indicated,  and  were 
about  to  vanish  into  the  low  scraggy  bushes,  the 
fisherman  hailed  them  with,  "  Say,  Mister." 

Meldrum,  who  knew  he  was  the  person  addressed, 
turned  to  receive  the  communication. 

"  If  ycr  goin'  ter  have  a  quiet  mill, — strickly  pri- 
vate like, — me  and  the  boatman  '11  go  along  and 
see  fair  play.  Hey,  mate  ?  " 

"  Suttonly,"  was  the  boatman's  instant  reply,  and 
his  face  beamed  with  pleasure. 

The  friends  woke  echoes  in   the  rocky   heights 


48  'J'HE   ENCHANTED. 

with  peals  of  laughter.     First   they  \verc  taken   fur 
burglars   and  now  for  pugilists.     What  next  ? 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Meldrum  at  length, 
when  their  mirth  had  subsided.  "  .But  we  are  as 
peaceable  as  you  are.  We'll  see  you  later."  And 
no  time  was  lost  in  covering  the  specified  ten  rods — 
twenty  by  chain  measurement.  The  path,  faint  at 
first,  soon  became  barely  traceable.  The  last  half  of 
it  showed  no  sign  of  recent  treading.  The  way  was 
stony,  briary,  and  damp,  and  the  explorers  were  fain 
to  curse  themselves  for  their  quixotism  in  undertak- 
ing their  tramp  before  break-fast,  when  the}'  caught 
sight  through  the  sumac  bushes  of  a  comparatively 
open  space.  There  was  the  steel-blue  river  tossing 
up  its  wavelets  to  the  sun.  There  were  the  big- 
rocks,  fallen  ages  ago  from  the  beetling  heights, 
picturesque  in  their  mantlings  of  moss  and  ivy. 
There  stood  the  venerable  tree — it  should  be  cedar 
— for  three  generations,  the  book's  said,  the  chief 
landmark  of  the  dueling  ground.  Parting  the  bushy 
fringe  and  letting  themselves  through,  the  friends 
found  the  place  less  like  a  bowling  alley  in  shape 
and  dimensions  than  they  had  expected.  But  it 
was  quite  conceivable  that  the  notorious  resort  for 
disciples  of  the  "code"  in  1804,  might  have  been 
enlarged  since  that  day  by  the  felling  of  trees  for 
firewood  and  by  the  blasting  and  removal  of  rock 
for  building  purposes.  The  once  restricted  area 


A    MOMENTOUS  EXPERIMENT.  49 

might  thus  have  been  expanded  to  accommodate 
not  merely  principals,  seconds,  and  surgeon,  but  a 
twenty-four  foot  ring  and  a  select  company  of  spec- 
tators. It  suggested  the  modern  prize-fight  rather 
than  the  antique  duello. 

Meld  rum  and  Wadlow  knqw  from  their  reading 
that  the  last  chip  of  marble  had  been  knocked  off 
and  carried  away  by  relic-hunters,  sixty  years  ago, 
from  the  tasteful  monument  erected  by  Hamilton's 
friends,  on  the  spot  where  he  fell,  soon  after  the 
event.  No  tree,  rock,  or  board  bore  any  inscription 
relating  to  the  tragedy.  Wadlow  caught  sight  of  a 
faint  rude  lettering  in  black  paint  on  the  face  of  an 
enormous  bowlder.  Deciphering  its  weather-worn 
lines  with  eager  curiosity,  he  made  out  this  legend  : 
"Here  Pat  Kilgorc  whipped  Tom  the  Smasher  in 
fifty-six  rounds,  June  24,  18 — ."  A  tribute  doubt- 
less paid  by  some  ardent  admirer  of  the  "sport" 
and  the  victor.  Out  of  the  rubbishy  store  of  his 
recollections  Meldrum  at  length  fished  up  those  two 
names  as  having,  years  before,  headed  many  a  news- 
paper column,  many  a  day,  filled  with  microscopic 
particulars  of  the  men's  training,  the  state  of  the 
betting  on  them,  and  everything  else  antecedent  to 
the  "battle  of  the  Giants,"  which  came  off  at  Wec- 
hawken  in  due  time,  and  a  faithful  record  of  whose 
sanguinary  rounds  took  up  a  page  and  a  half  of  the 
Trumpeter.  Wadlow,  on  his  part,  recalled  with 


5°  THE    I-:.\CII.1.\TED. 

equal  accuracy  the  gratifying  fact  that  the  sheriff 
and  his  posse.,  armed  to  the  teeth,  had  swept  down 
on  the  fighters  just  after  the  sponge  had  been 
thrown  up,  bagged  them  and  the  seconds,  and  that 
they  had  expiated  their  violation  of  Jersey's  dra- 
conian  statute  by  a  year  in  Hudson  County  jail. 
From  that  day  pugilists  have  avoided  a  State  so  in- 
hospitable to  their  order,  and  the  "  old  fighting 
ground  "  of  the  fisherman  had  been  abandoned  to  its 
native  weeds  and  briars.  And  it  was  evident  that 
he  knew  it,  not  from  its  distant  and  now  quite  for- 
gotten connection  with  the  Burr-Hamilton  duel  but 
from  its  modern  and  vulgar  association  with  the  last 
renowned  exponents  of  fisticuffs  who  faced  each 
other  on  Jersey  soil. 

"  We  are  satisfied  that  this  is  the  spot,  eh?  "  said 
Wadlow,  with  the  betraying  accent  of  doubt. 

"  Ye — yes,  especially  as  I  am  tired  and  con- 
founded hungry." 

In  preparing  for  the  task  before  them  the}'  had 
hung  long  and  critically  over  different  portraits  of 
Hamilton  and  Burr,  and  had  selected  those  which 
seemed  best  to  express  the  character  of  the  men  as 
described  by  their  contemporaries.  These  had 
been  stored  in  their  minds  as  images  to  be  projected 
into  space  by  an  effort  of  the  will.  It  was  their 
design  to  reduce  to  a  minimum  the  difficulties  of 

o 

this,  their  first   venture,  into  the  domain   of  plain 


A   MOMENTOUS  EXPERIMENT.  51 

history.  They  had,  therefore,  resolved  to  eliminate 
from  the  problem  the  seconds  Van  Ness  and  Pendle- 
ton  and  Doctor  Hosack,  and  expend  their  whole 
psychical  force  on  one  tableau,  comprising  two 
figures  only.  This  would  represent  the  supreme 
moment  when  the  Vice-President  of  the  United 
States  took  aim  and  instantly  fired  and  General 
Hamilton,  receiving  the  fatal  bullet,  discharged  his 
own  pistol  in  the  air  and  then  fell  to  the  ground, 
face  forward. 

They  measured  off  the  ten  paces  in  order  to  fix 
the  exact  relative  positions  of  the  combatants, 
Meldrum  personating  Hamilton  at  one  end  of  the 
line,  facing  the  sun,  while  Wadlow  stood  for  Burr 
at  the  other.  By  way  of  rehearsal  Wadlow  raised 
his  right  arm,  sighted  along  it,  and  said  "Bang!" 
Meldrum  acted  his  part  with  equal  fidelity  all  but 
the  falling  headlong.  Then, .having  stuck  two  long 
twigs  into  the  ground  to  mark  the  sites,  they 
climbed  a  rock  which  commanded  a  full  view  of 
the  scene. 

"  A  beefsteak  would  have  put  me  in  better  form 
for  this  job,  Madison.  I  don't  feel  quite  up  to 
it,  I'm  afraid." 

"  A  hot  cup  of  coffee  is  what  I  want,  Felix. 
Hankering  after  it  seems  to  knock  the  whole 
business  out  of  my  head.  But  now  we're  here,  let's 
try  hard." 


5 2  TJI1-.    f.XCHAXTKD. 

"  Here  goes,"  cried  Mcldrutn,  as  a  signal  to  begin. 

"  I'm  off,"  was  the  cheery  reply. 

In  unison  the  friends  folded  their  arms,  opened 
their  eyes  wide,  knitted  their  brows,  set  their  teeth 
rigidly,  strictly  conforming  to  all  the  physical  re- 
quirements of  the  game.  In  two  minutes  the  men- 
tal strain,  coupled  with  the  tension  of  muscles, 
brought  beads  of  sweat  to  their  foreheads  in  the 
chill  November  air.  Their  faces  were  pale,  their 
lips  quivering,  in  spite  of  all  efforts  to  shut  them 
tight. 

"  Sec  anything,  Madison  ?  "  This  in  a  hoarse 
whisper. 

"  Nothing,  Felix,"  in  a  faint,  guttural  voice. 

"  Not  a  pigtail  ?  " 

"  No, — nor  a  ruffled  shirt." 

The  allusions  here  were  to  t\vo  marked  features 
of  the  attire  of  each  of  the  duelists,  which  had 
been  impressed  with  peculiar  distinctness  on  the 
minds  of  the  daring  experimenters.  If  these 
prominences,  so  to  speak',  could  not  be  made  to 
appear,  by  any  effort  of  volition,  as  precursors  of 
the  figures  full  clad,  th.cn  it  was  clearly  useless  to 
push  the  effort  any  further. 

"  Give  it  up,  Felix  ?  " 

"  I  hate  to,  after  all  the  trouble.  If  we  had  a  bit 
to  cat  now,  possibly — 

"  Back  in    ten    minutes,    as    the    cards    on    office 


A    MOMENTOUS  EXPERIMENT.  53 

doors  always  say — only  in  this  case  it  wont  be  half 
an  hour,"  exclaimed  Wadlow  gayly,  as  he  jumped 
through  the  sumacs  and  disappeared. 

Meldrum  knew  that  his  eccentric  comrade  was 
foraging  for  breakfast,  and  his  absence  on  that 
humane  mission  gave  him  no  anxiety.  lie  had 
calmed  down  and  cooled  off  by  the  time  that  Wad- 
low  reported  himself,  much  heated.  In  one  hand 
was  a  goodly  sausage,  in  the  other  a  hunch  of 
bread. 

"The  fisherman  —  part  of  his  breakfast  —  you 
know — "  gasped  the  obliging  fellow.  "  Better  than 
nothing." 

The  half-famished  couple  divided  the  supplies, 
and  though,  of  course,  these  did  not  fill  the  aching 
void,  they  assuaged  the  ache  temporarily.  Hunger, 
for  the  present,  would  not  divert  their  minds  tyran- 
nically from  the  feat  they  had  proposed. 

"  Now  for  it  !  " 

"  I'm  with  you  !  " 

Three  more  minutes  of  enforced  abstraction, 
intense  thought,  and  strenuous  putting  forth  of  will 
power,  with  attendant  facial  phenomena  quite  pain- 
ful to  behold. 

"  What  luck?''  at  length  murmured  Meldrum,  not 
yet  removing  his  eyes  from  the  twig  he  was  trying 
to  turn  into  Hamilton. 

"  Fisherman's   luck — nothing,"     sighed   Wadlow, 


54  THE  RXCHA 

who  was  seeking  to  erect  Burr  in  place  of  the  other 

stick. 

Recognizing  the  complete  miscarriage  of  their 
enterprise,  they  slid  to  the  ground,  and  without 
more  ado  started  for  the  boat.  They  were  now 
anxious  only  to  get  back  to  town  and  a  breakfast 
worthy  of  the  name,  the  appetizing  components  of 
which  rose  to  their  minds  with  a  vividness  wholly 
denied  to  Hamilton  and  Burr. 

As  they  retraced  the  path,  they  hastily  canvassed 

the  reasons  why  this  novel  experiment,  from  which 

so   much    had    been    hoped,   had    proved    abortive. 

The  lack  of  a  substantial  meal  as  a  preparative  for 

the  mysterious   operation— that    should    count    for 

something,  they  thought.     The  lingering  doubts  as 

to  absolute  identity  of  place— those  had  their  weight, 

they  should  say.     But  they  were  driven  to  conclude 

that  the  most  serious,  if  not  the  only  real  trouble, 

lay  in  the  imperfect  and   confusing  mental  picture 

of  the   duel   which   they  had   been   essaying  to  set 

forth  in  palpable  form.     Neither  of  them,  as  they 

now    confessed,   had    derived    a    luminous,    sharply 

defined  conception  of  the  scene  from  the  pages  of 

any  of  the  unimaginative  historians  and  biographers 

they   had    consulted    about    it.     The    result    might 

have  been  far  different   had  that   scene  received,  in 

advance,   the   mystic  consecration  which    the    true 

enchanter  bestows  on  all  he  touches. 


A   MOMENTOUS  EXPERIMENT.  55 

Mcldrum  and  Wadlow  were  thereafter  to  ascertain, 
beyond  any  manner  of  doubt,  the  true  and  only 
explanation  of  the  vexatious  failure  beneath  the 
heights  of  Weehawken.  They  were  to  make  other 
tests  in  the  same  line  of  investigation,  and  were  at 
last  to  reach  the  solid  ground  of  this  conclusion,  to 
wit :  that  no  personage  and  no  scene,  purely  historical, 
can  be  conjured  up  unless  previously  steeped  in  the 
glowing  imagination  of  t lie  true  enchanter;  also,  that, 
when  creative  genius  breathes  the  breath  of  life  into 
the  dead  men  and  ivomen  of  history,  they  become  no 
more  vitalised  and  available, psychically,  than  the  base- 
less imaginings  of  the  same  wonder-working  brain. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

WITH    SHAKESPEARE    IN    HIS   MACBETH   COUNTRY. 

WHEN,  in  the  fullness  of  time,  Mr.  Felix  Meklrum 
was  enabled  to  arrange  his  affairs  for  his  first  trip  to 
Europe,  it    was    a    cause  of    much    regret  that   the 
sympathetic    Wadlow    could    not    accompany    him. 
Meklrum  had  been   fortunate  in  his  struggle  for  a 
competence  ;  Wadlow  the  reverse.     The  one  could 
take   a  protracted  vacation  with  a  full  purse  and  a 
mind  at   case.     The  other  was  tied  down  by  condi- 
tions   that    made    economy    and    continuous    strict 
personal    attention    to     business     indispensable    to 
meeting    his    living    expenses.       It    was    a    familial- 
illustration   of    that    irony    of  fate  which   separates 
deeply  attached  friends  by  the   barriers  of  circum- 
stance. 

When  Meldrum  parted  with  Wadlow  on  the 
steamer's  deck,  he  knew  that  he  should  greatly 
miss,  in  Europe,  the  society  of  the  comrade  of  his 
little  rambles  at  home.  But  he  did  not  realize- 
one  never  does  till  it  is  lacking— the  extreme  scar- 
city of  full  companionship.  In  his  inexperience,  he 
expected  to  pick  up  new  acquaintances,  from  time 

56 


WITH  SHAKESPEARE.  57 

to  time,  who  would  share  his  own  enthusiasm  in 
visiting  those  places  abroad  to  which  his  heart  most 
fondly  turned  because  they  were  hallowed  by 
genius.  For  the  small  taste  of  such  exquisite  as- 
sociations which  he  had  enjoyed  in  his  own  coun- 
try, had  whetted  his  appetite  for  them  to  a  keen 
edge. 

His  trip  to  Europe  was  wholly  prompted  by  a 
desire  to  feast  his  full  on  this  subtlest  of  pleasures. 
Greatly  to  his  disappointment,  he  found  no  one 
among  the  steamer's  passengers  who  filled  Wad- 
low's  place  in  any  respect.  Such  a  paragon  there 
might  have  been  on  board,  but,  if  so,  he  remained 
undiscovered  by  Meldrum,  because  he  was  an 
integer  in  some  social  group  already  made  up,  to 
which  admission  was  not  to  be  had  by  an  outsider 
on  any  terms.  He  played  whist  in  .the  smoking 
room  and  shovel-board  on  deck ;  he  was  good- 
humored  and  affable  to  everybody  within  reach  of 
his  voice  at  the  meals  which  he  never  missed  ;  he 
improved  every  occasion  to  rivet  a  friendship  with 
some  man  of  about  his  own  age  (he  confessed  to 
thirty)  ;  but  all  his  approaches,  even  toward  the 
amiable  sharer  of  his  stateroom,  were  unsuccessful 
beyond  a  certain  point.  There  was  not  one  among 
them  all  who  echoed,  like  Wadlow,  his  inmost 
thoughts  and  aspirations.  And,  if  some  substitute 
for  that  incomparable  man  had  been  found,  destiny 


$8  THE   ENCHANTED. 

would,  doubtless,  have  foreordained  for  him  a  route 
through  Europe  entirely  different  from  that  which 
Mcldrum  had  marked  out  for  himself. 

When  he  stepped  on  the  Liverpool  dock  at  the 
end  of  the  voyage,  his  loneliness  became  oppres- 
sively painful.  lie  had  exchanged  hearty  goocl- 
bys  with  some  nice  people;  but  none  among  them 
had  asked  him  to  join  them  in  their  land  journey- 
ings,  and  there  were  none  with  whom  he  would 
have  cared  for  that  close  intimacy  if  he  had  been 
invited.  He  felt  that  he  was  craving  something 
which  was,  in  the  nature  of  things,  unattainable. 
Driven  back  on  himself,  his  pride  revolted  at  the 
thought  of  being  so  helplessly  dependent  on  the 
sympathy  of  others.  He  tried  to  shake  off  the 
depression.  Pie  laughed  at  his  own  silly  weakness. 
He  said  to  himself,  "  Surely  a  man  of  my  age 
should  have  resources  within  himself,  lie  should 
not  mope  and  whine  like  a  child  because  he  is  left 
alone.  It  is  too  absurd." 

Mcldrum's  sinking  spirits  rose  again  with  these 
encouraging  reflections.  He  addressed  himself 
quite  cheerfully  to  the  prosaic  formalities  of  passing 
the  Custom  House.  These  discharged,  he  took  the 
next  train  for  the  north, — his  destination  being  the 
land  over  which  two  of  the  greatest  enchanters  that 
ever  lived — Scott  and  Burns — have  cast  their  spell. 
The  season  was  early  for  Scotland,  and  not  a  single 


WITH   SHAKESPEARE.  59 

one  of  his  passing  acquaintances  on  ship-board 
entered  the  train  with  him.  They  were  all  bound 
for  London. 

Meldrum  heartily  congratulated  himself  on  the 
fact  that  he  should  at  least  be  free  from  the  swarm 
of  ordinary  tourists  whose  headlong  haste  and  im- 
pertinent chatter  would  only  have  annoyed  him  as 
he  paid  his  devotions  at  the  shrines  of  genius. 
Here  he  was  mistaken.  The  time  was  fast  coming 
when  he  would  have  been  glad  to  exchange  impres- 
sions with  the  flightiest  and  least  enlightened  of 
fellow-travelers  who  were  "  doing  "  Europe  only  to 
say  they  had  done  it  ;  not,  like  himself,  in  pursuit 
of  a  refined  and  exalted  pleasure. 

At  Dumfries,  at  Ayr,  at  Abbotsford,  Melrose 
and  Dryburgh  Abbeys,  on  Lakes  Katrine  and 
Lomoncl,  in  the  Trossachs,  wherever,  in  bonny  Scot- 
land, Burns  and  Scott  were  summoned  to  his  mem- 
ory by  some  indelible  local  associations  with  their 
immortal  works,  he  would  have  given  something 
for  an  inclining  ear  into  which  he  might  have 
poured  himself  without  stint.  It  was  a  question  no 
longer  of  perfect  sympathy,  but  of  a  tolerant  list- 
ener. Such  a  one  was  not  met  with  for  the  good 
reason  that  Meldrum  was  an  unseasonable  pioneer 
of  the  great  annual  pilgrimage  which  would  overrun 
Scotland  a  month  or  two  later.  The  only  persons 
he  encountered  were  commercial  travelers  or  na- 


Go 

tivcs  with  whom  he  (perhaps  foolishly)  disliked  to 
air  his  heated  fancies.  It  was  only  with  the  profes- 
sional and  feed  custodians  and  guides  that  he  could 
talk  out  of  the  abundance  of  his  heart ;  and  it 
always  happened  that  they  wanted  to  monopoli/c 
the  talking  and  looked  upon  his  rhapsodies  as  un- 
pleasant interruptions. 

More  and  more  he  missed  the  kindly,  genial, 
thoughtful  Wadlow,  not  merely  as  the  man  of  all 
men  who  understood  him,  but  as  the  sole  sharer  of 
that  strange,  new  power  of  reproducing  scenes  and 
repcopling  them  out  of  the  treasure  house  of  mem. 
ory.  Castles,  abbeys,  lochs,  rivers,  bridges,  hills 
and  valleys,  famed  in  story  and  song,  were  all  under 
the  spell  of  enchanters  ;  but  he  found  that  to  break 
the  seals  and  to  enter  upon  the  full  enjoyment  of 
these  objects  and  places  required  the  aid  of  a 
wholly  sympathetic  heart  and  mind,  such  as  Wad- 
low,  alone,  of  all  on  his  list  of  friends,  possessed. 
To  him,  late  at  night,  Meldrum  would  unbosom 
himself  in  long  letters  descriptive  of  his  travels  and 
impressions,  and  would  receive  prompt  answers 
running  over  with  appreciation  and  sympathy. 
This  correspondence  mitigated  the  pain  of  separa- 
tion ;  but  nothing  is  exchangeable  for  the  presence 
of  dear  old-time  friends,  face  to  face. 

In  his  delightful  rambles  among  the  guide-books, 
preparatory  to  going  abroad,  Meldrum  had  noticed 


WITH   SHAKESPEARE.  6 1 

several  appetizing  allusions  to  the  Macbeth  country 
visitable  by  the  Highland  Railway.  It  was  boldly 
claimed  that  the  blasted  heath  where  the  witches 
performed  their  impious  rites,  and  the  identical  Bir- 
nam  Wood,  could  be  seen  from  the  passing  trains. 
It  mattered  little  to  him  whether  these  claims  were 
true  or  not.  Had  he  considered  the  subject  in  cold 
blood,  he  would  doubtless  have  decided  that 
Shakespeare  drew  upon  his  exhaustless  imagination 
for  the  scenery  of  "  Macbeth,"  as  well  as  for  that  of 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet  "  and  the  "  Merchant  of  Ven- 
ice." He  would  have  cynically  made  up  his  mind 
that  the  Witches'  Heath  and  the  wood  of  Birnam 
were  after-thoughts  and  cheap  advertisements  of  the 
Highland  Railway  Company  and  the  innkeepers. 
But  the  mood  of  enthusiasts  is  never  skeptical.  He 
longed  to  catch  glimpses,  if  only  flying  ones,  of  the 
scenes  associated  with  a  master  work  of  Shake- 
speare. With  this  purpose,  he  found  himself  one 
fine  morning  in  June  on  a  train  bound  from  Inver- 
ness to  Perth. 

The  fat  green  guidebook  which  he  carried  local- 
ized the  Macbeth  country  with  sufficient  precision. 
But  he  did  not  want  to  be  continually  on  the  alert 
with  eyes  and  ears  for  fear  of  missing  the  objects  of 
his  pilgrimage.  So,  when  the  guard  closed  the 
door  of  his  carriage  at  Inverness,  Meldrum  tipped 
him  a  half-crown  with  the  request  that  he  should 


62  THE   ENCHANTED. 

be  told  when  they  were  approaching  Birnam  Wood 
and  the  Witches'  Heath.  The  guard  grinned  as  he 
nodded  and  pocketed  the  silver.  The  grin  an- 
noyed Meldrum,  for  it  conveyed,  as  plainly  as 
words,  the  man's  disbelief  in  the  identity  of  the 
places  in  question.  But  he  was  less  disturbed  by  it 
than  by  a  palpable  smile  on  the  face  of  a  well- 
dressed  man  who  sat  opposite  to  him.  This  person 
had  been  reading  the  London  Standard,  which  he 
lowered  to  his  knees  when  he  heard  Meldrum's  re- 
mark to  the  guard.  The  smile  which  he  delivered 
broadside  would  have  been  followed  up  with  some 
observation  —  equally  impertinent,  no  doubt  —  if 
Meldrum  had  not  frowned  and  pulled  his  traveling 
cap  over  his  eyes,  and  buried  himself  columns  deep 
in  his  own  morning  paper.  This  he  pretended  to 
read  very  hard.  Occasionally  he  would  steal  a 
glance  at  the  person  before  him,  who  was  also 
seemingly  immersed  in  his  journal,  but  upon  whose 
lips  and  eyes  that  smile  still  lingered.  Meldrum 
knew  that  he  was  facing  one  of  those  terrible 
doubters  for  whom  all  history  is  a  lavish  embroid- 
ery of  fact  with  fiction,  and  every  legend  a  pure  lie. 
Silence  reigned  on  both  sides,  while  the  two  oc- 
cupants of  the  carriage  kept  up  the  elaborate  pre- 
tense of  reading,  occasionally  varied  by  glances  at 
the  landscape  through  which  the  train  was  leisurely 
jogging. 


WITH  SHAKESPEARE.  63 

Presently  the  guard  appeared  and  tapped  upon 
the  glass,  which  was  promptly  lowered  in  response. 
The  smile  upon  his  face  this  time  was  broader  than 
before,  as  he  cried  out,  "Witches'  'Eath,  please, 
sir,  in  three  minutes.  The  train  slows  up  for  it." 
A  blush,  compounded  of  vexation  and  shame,— for 
he  did  not  like  to  be  looked  upon  as  the  dupe  even 
of  a  cozening  guide-book, — mantled  Meldrum's 
cheeks.  This  deepened  as  he  chanced  to  catch, 
just  then,  the  intensely  amused  expression  on  the 
countenance  of  his  I'is-h-i'is. 

"  'Ere  we  are,"  exclaimed  the  guide,  again  grin- 
ning diabolically,  at  the  window. 

Meldrum's  quick  ear  caught  the  sound  as  of  a 
laugh  from  his  provoking  neighbor.  It  jarred  pain- 
fully on  the  serious  associations  of  the  time  and 
place,  and  went  far  to  deprive  the  poor  man  of  any 
pleasure  he  might  have  taken  in  a  cursory  view  of 
the  Witches'  Heath.  Heroically  trying  to  forget 
the  annoyance,  he  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  win- 
dow, in  wanton  violation  of  the  rules,  and  gazed 
upon  the  scene  intently.  The  heath  was  a  blasted 
one  indeed,  so  far  fully  answering  to  Shakespeare's 
description.  It  was  full  of  scraggy  bushes,  withered 
and  leafless.  Some  of  these  reached  a  height  of  six 
or  eight  feet,  with  black  branches,  crooked  and 
forked,  recalling  to  Meldrum  the  long  wands  used 
by  the  three  hags  of  the  play  in  the  incantation 


64  THE  ENCHANTED. 

scene.  The  heath  was  framed  by  dark  \voods,  which 
seemed  a  fit  hiding-place  for  all  uncanny  creatures 
that  hated  the  light.  As  Aleldrum  peered  into  the 
gloomy  depths  of  this  forest  he  saw  a  tall,  skinny 
woman  hovering  upon  its  border.  It  was  really 
only  a  native  who  was  boldly  trespassing  on  the  ac- 
cursed domain  to  pick  up  a  little  fire-wood.  But 
if  Meldrum  had  not  been  conscious  of  a  mocking 

o 

eye  fastened  upon  him  at  that  interesting  moment, 
he  would  have  given  reins  to  his  imagination,  lie 
would  have  accepted  that  spectral  figure,  with  a 
broken  branch  in  her  hand,  as  one  of  Shakespeare's 
witches,  capriciously  showing  herself  in  broad  day. 
If  his  railway  carriage  were  only  emptied  of 
that  miserable  literalist  and  skeptic!  If  anybody, 
no  matter  how  ignorant,  were  at  hand  to  whom 
he  might  impart  his  emotions  without  fear  of 
ridicule  !  Best  of  all,  if  Wadlow  —  the  sympa- 
thetic— were  by  his  side!  lie  could  not  suppress  a 
deep  sigh,  as  he  drew  his  head  into  the  carriage  at  a 
turn  of  the  road  which  shut  out  the  dismal  scene. 
Circumstances  had  robbed  him  of  nine  tenths  of 
the  pleasure  he  might  have  derived  from  the 
blasted  heath. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  like  it?"  was  the  question  put 
to  him  by  the  disagreeable  man  on  the  opposite  seat, 
with  sarcasm  in  every  syllable. 

"  I  like    it  very    much — if  you  will    let    me,"  re- 


WITH  SHAKESPEARE.  65 

plied  Meldrum,  determined  to  defend  the  spot  from 
all  assaults,  whatever  his  private  misgivings  about  it 
might  be. 

"  I  wouldn't  mar  your  happiness  for  worlds,"  said 
the  person  addressed,  still  smiling  in  a  superior  way, 
"  I  quite  envy  you  the  readiness  with  which  you  take 
the  blasted  heath  as  a  fact  instead  of  a  coinage  of 
Shakespeare's  brain." 

There  was  no  better  way  out  of  the  difficulty 
than  to  stand  up  for  the  world's  bard  against  all 
comers. 

"  I  fully  believe  in  it,"  said  Meldrum,  with  an  im- 
passive face. 

"  What,  that  Shakespeare  had  that  place  in  his 
mind's  eye,  as  the  scene  of  the  witches'  talk  with 
Macbeth?  " 

"  Undoubtedly  ;  he  came  up  from  London  and 
picked  it  out  before  he  wrote  the  play." 

"  Whew  !  Perhaps  you  will  next  say  that  you  be- 
lieve the  play  itself  to  be  all  true?" 

"  Every  word  of  it,"  replied  Meldrum,  slapping  his 
hand  on  his  knee,  as  was  his  wont  when  excited. 

"  Including  the  witches  themselves  and  the  ghost 
of  Banquo?  " 

''Them 'most  of  all.  I  swallow  my  Shakespeare 
whole." 

Every  feature  in  his  fellow-traveler's  expressive 
English  face  betrayed  astonishment.  This  was  sue- 


66  THE  ENCHANTED. 

ceedcd  by  a  puzzled  look,  as  if,  on  reflection,  he 
thought  he  might  be  the  subject  of  a  little  practical 
joke  on  the  part  of  the  American.  He  had  often 
heard  that  Americans  were  addicted  to  practical 
joking,  lint  at  that  moment  no  appropriate  remark 
occurred  to  him.  And  had  it  occurred,  it  would 
probably  not  have  been  uttered,  for  the  reason  that 
Melclrum  had  raised  the  barrier  of  two  thicknesses 
of  newspaper  to  further  intercourse.  One  cannot 
well  pursue  a  conversation  which  another  deliber- 
ately fends  off  in  that  way. 

After  a  protracted  silence,  during  which  Meldrum 
feigned  to  take  a  nap  in  the  corner  of  the  carriage, 
with  the  paper  before  his  eyes,  the  guard  re-ex- 
hibited himself  at  the  window. 

"  Beg  parcling,  sir,"  said  he,  in  a  loud  voice,  to 
wake  the  American  from  his  supposed  slumber, 
"but  we're  a-coming  to  Birnam  Wood — leastways 
wo't  there  is  of  it." 

Meldrum  opened  his  eyes  and  could  not  fail  to  re- 
mark again  the  damnable  grin  which  followed  these 
words.  And  unless  he  was  much  mistaken,  there 
was  something  very  like  a  wink  of  the  guard's  eye 
in  the  direction  of  the  skeptical  gentleman,  who 
hoisted  his  paper  again,  presumably  to  hide  an  out- 
burst of  mirth.  His  tremulous  hands,  a  moment 
afterward,  indicated  that  he  was  vainly  struggling 
to  suppress  a  convulsion  behind  it. 


WITH  SHAKESPEARE.  67 

But,  true  to  his  professed  faith  in  the  preten- 
sions of  the  Macbeth  country,  Meldrum  rose  and 
protruded  his  head  into  the  open  air  so  as  to  lose 
not  one  inch  of  the  coming  view.  The  slowing  of 
the  engine  announced  the  moment  when  passen- 
gers should  be  on  the  lookout  for  Birnam  Wood. 
But,  though  all  alive,  he  would  not  have  known 
when  he  came  to  it,  save  for  the  timely  prompting 
of  the  guard,  who  presented  himself  once  more 
and,  with  an  ill-suppressed  chuckle,  pointed  to  two 
mighty  spreading  oak  trees,  adding,  "The  rest  of 
'em  went  to  Dunsinane,  you  know."  It  was  the 
guard's  regular  little  jest ;  and  it  had  oft  been  rec- 
ognized and  approved  with  a  smile,  but  it  caused 
no  relaxation  in  Meldrum's  set  visage,  though  a 
sound  as  of  a  smothered  snort  responded  to  it  from 
the  depths  of  the  carriage. 

If  the  twin  survivors  of  Birnam  Wood  had  been 
a  grove  of  the  first  magnitude,  Meldrum  could  not 
have  displayed  a  livelier  interest  in  the  majestic 
souvenirs  of  the  immortal  tragedy.  He  looked  and 
looked  till  long  after  the  noble  old  trees  were  lost 
to  sight.  Then  he  pulled  in  his  head  and  closed 
his  eyes  again  as  his  most  significant  hint  that  he 
was  to  be  strictly  let  alone,  and  the  unpleasant  per- 
son facing  him  respected  it.  But  it  was  a  real  re- 
lief when,  soon  afterward,  that  individual  reached 
his  journey's  end  and  got  out,  leaving  the  senti- 


68  THE  ENCHANTED. 

mental  pilgrim  to  thank  God  and  meditate  undis- 
turbed upon  a  proposition  which  he  had  been  for 
some  time  turning  over  indecisively.  "  Yes,"  said 
he,  at  last,  addressing  vacancy  in  his  most  energetic 
manner,  "  I'll  send  for  clear  old  Wadlow  this  very 
night.  If  he  doubles  my  expenses,  he  will  treble 
my  happiness.  A  man  to  talk  to — one  of  my  own 
sort  besides — is  cheap  at  any  price." 

That  night  were  mailed  from  Perth  to  New  York 
two  letters  :  one  was  superscribed,  "  Madison  Wad- 
low,  Esq.,  Attorney-at-Law,  Van  der  Trump  Build- 
ing," entreating  him  by  the  sacred  bonds  of  their 
most  ancient  friendship  to  leave  his  lambs  of 
clients  to  the  tender  mercies  of  other  wolves,  and 
report  without  delay  at  the  Golden  Cross  Motel, 
Strand,  London.  The  other  letter  bore  the  address 
"  Spinnagc  &  Mcldrum,  Bankers,  Broad  Street," 
and  made  ample  provision  for  Wadlow's  traveling 
expenses. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WITH    DICKENS    AT    THE    BULL    INN — EXTRAORDI- 
NARY  MEETING   OF   THE   NEW   PICKWICK   CLUB. 

THE  Pickwick  Club,  convened  in  extraordinary 
session  at  the  Bull  Inn,  Rochester,  could  not  have 
chosen  a  better  night  f  r  their  formal  reception  of 
Mr.  Felix  Meldrum  and  Mr.  Madison  Wadlow.  The 
high,  cold  wind,  howling  through  the  deserted 
streets  of  the  old  cathedral  town,  and  the  heavy  rain 
that  beat  fiercely  against  the  window  panes,  made 
the  snug  club  room  with  its  cheerful  open  fire  and 
its  closely  drawn  red  curtains  seem  most  delightful 
by  force  of  contrast. 

The  meeting  place  of  the  club  was  an  oblong 
apartment  of  moderate  size,  with  a  low-raftered  ceil- 
ing, buff-painted  walls,  and  freshly-sanded  floor;  two 
even  dozen  of  large  arm-chairs,  leather-cushioned 
and  enticing;  in  the  center  a  round  mahogany  table, 
and  on  one  side  a  smaller  table,  fronting  a  chair,  the 
tall,  finely-carved  back  of  which  proclaimed  its  dig- 
nity and  discomfort  as  the  presiding  seat.  It  was 
occupied  by  Joseph  Smiggers,  Esq.,  Perpetual  Vice- 
President  of  the  Pickwick  Club.  In  private  life  he 

6g 


7°  THE  ENCHANTED. 

bore  quite  another  name,  and  his  high  reputation  as  a 
physician  and  all  the  qualities  that  go  to  make  up  a 
worthy  citizen  and  a  glorious  good  fellow,  were  co- 
extensive with  the  County  of  Kent.  In  the  Pick- 
wick Papers  he  receives  but  a  single  mention,  and  no 
portrayal  of  his  person  or  character  is  attempted. 
It  only  appears  from  the  record  in  the  first  chapter 
of  that  immortal  work,  that  his  firm  yet  conciliatory 
manner  aided  powerfully  in  averting,  fora  time,  the 
fatal  breach  between  the  founder  and  Mr.  "Blotton 
(of  Aldgatc).  The  new  Pickwick  Club  was  happily 
exempt  from  rival  ambitions  and  jealousies  ;  but, 
had  any  personal  controversy  arisen  to  embitter  the 
sweet  monotony  of  its  sittings,  the  successor  and 
namesake  of  Joseph  Smiggers,  Esq.,  would,  by  his 
unfailing  tact  and  good  temper,  have  done  much  to 
restore  harmony. 

The  club  was  organized  some  years  ago  to  bring 
together  statedly  the  choicest  spirits  of  Rochester 
under  a  name  which  they  all  loved.  It  consists  of 
only  twenty  members.  On  occasions  of  ceremony 
they  all  wear  the  original,  prescribed  costume  of  a 
bright  blue  dress  coat  with  gilt  buttons,  bearing  the 
initials  "  P.  C.,"  with  whatever  other  modern  articles 
of  attire  please  their  individual  tastes.  It  is  a 
cause  of  regret  that  the  Posthumous  Papers  of  the 
parent  club  did  not  provide  names  enough  to  go 
round  among  this  score  of  members.  But  the  most 


WITH  DICKENS  A  T  THE  BULL  INN.  71 

is  made  of  the  few  that  were  handed  down,  and  it  is 
deemed  a  great  honor  to  be  chosen  by  ballot  to  bear 
them  for  the  period  of  one  year,  while  to  be  re- 
elected  to  the  distinction  is  justly  regarded  as  one  of 
the  most  gratifying  of  compliments. 

On  this  eventful  night,  at  the  moment  we  are 
raising  the  curtain  to  disclose  the  Innocent  secrets 
of  the  club,  Mr.  Winkle  was  standing  with  his  back 
to  the  fire,  gently  toasting  himself,  Mr.  Snodgrass 
was  pushing  aside  a  thick  curtain  and  trying  to  peer 
into  darkness  with  no  other  object  than  to  kill  time, 
and  Mr.  Tupman  was  sitting  with  a  leg  thrown  over 
the  arm  of  a  chair  and  drumming  absent-mindedly 
upon  the  center-table.  This  historic  trio  were 
known  to  the  outside  world,  respectively,  as  a  junior 
barrister,  a  curate,  and  a  country  gentleman  who 
lived  on  his  estate  near  Gad's  Hill,  Higham,  by 
Rochester,  Kent,  for  some  years  a  neighbor  and 
friend  of  Dickens,  and  who  had  not  missed  a  meet- 
ing of  the  club  since  its  organization.  Near  him, 
with  a  seriously  preoccupied  look  upon  his  other- 
wise genial  face,  as  if  he  were  settling  upon  the  ex- 
act phraseology  of  a  few  remarks  to  be  made  later 
on,  sat  a  portly  gentleman,  head  of  one  of  the  oldest 
county  families,  rich,  benevolent,  and  universally 
liked,  whose  name  in  these  pages  shall  be  entered 
only  as  Mr.  Blotton  (of  Aldgate),  of  whose  restora- 
tion to  membership,  after  a  long-enforced  absence,  a 


72  THE  ENCHANTED. 

word  may  be  necessary.  Though  the  original  Mr. 
Blotton  made  an  ignominious  failure  of  his  pre- 
sumptuous attempt  to  underrate  the  importance  of 
Mr.  Pickwick's  great  archaeological  discovery,  and 
was  justly  expelled  from  the  club  in  1827,  there  is 
no  reason  to  suppose  that,  in  his  exile  from  that 
charmed  circle,  he  may  not  have  been  delighted, 
like  the  rest  of  the  world,  with  the  published  report 
of  its  transactions,  apart  from  his  own  unfortunate 
connection  with  it.  Perfect  cordiality  among  the 
members  being  properly  regarded  as  an  object  to  be 
fostered  in  the  formation  of  the  new  Pickwick  Club, 
it  was  deemed  advisable  to  forget  the  one  painful  in- 
cident in  the  history  of  the  old  one,  to  rehabilitate 
Mr.  Blotton  (of  Aldgatc)  and  restore  him  to  a  full 
and  recognized  standing,  and  thus  add  another  to 
the  too  few  names  available  for  club  uses  on  special 
occasions. 

Twenty-four  hours  notice  that  two  Americans, 
warm  admirers  of  Dickens  and  pilgrims  to  the  inns 
and  other  places  commemorated  in  the  Pickwick 
Papers,  were  to  be  ceremonially  received  that  night, 
had  sufficed  to  bring  out  every  member  in  spite  of 
the  storm. 

Nothing  broke  the  silence  of  the  room  but  the 
crackling  of  the  fire  and  Mr.  Tupman's  tattoo,  exe- 
cuted with  increasing  vigor.  It  was  the  hush  that 
preceded  a  long-expected  tread  of  boots  outside  the 


WITH  DICKENS  AT  THE  BULL  INN.  73 

door.  As  the  sound  drew  nearer,  every  member 
stood  erect  in  an  attitude  of  reception.  The  door 
opened,  and  lo !  Mr.  Pickwick  himself,  framed 
there  like  a  full-length  portrait  from  life,  the  bright 
light  of  the  room  bringing  him  out  in  full  relief 
against  the  partial  darkness  of  the  hall.  From 
gaiters  to  spectacles  the  likeness  was  faultless. 
The  person  upon  whom  fell  the  exalted  responsi- 
bility of  reviving  Mr.  Pickwick  to  the  eye  of  flesh 
possessed  admirable  natural  qualifications  for  his 
task.  He  was  short  and  stout.  That  periphery 
which  comes  of  a  happy  disposition  and  generous 
feeding  belonged  to  him,  as  to  the  founder  of 
beloved  memory.  His,  too,  were  the  beaming  eyes 
and  the  winning  smile  of  the  great  original.  While 
he  lives  as  the  central  figure  and  leading  spirit  of 
the  Pickwick  Club  of  Rochester,  it  will  not  fall  to 
pieces ;  and  as  long  as  he  presides  at  Quarter 
Sessions,  under  his  real  and  honored  name,  none  but 
the  most  incorrigible  rogues  will  receive  justice  un- 
tempered  by  mercy. 

Behind  him  appeared  Meldrum  and  Wadlow,  in 
conventional  evening  dress.  As  the  three  entered 
the  room,  they  were  received  with  a  warm  salute 
of  hand-clapping,  which  subsided  on  a  signal  from 
Mr.  Pickwick,  who  then  performed  the  ceremony  of 
a  comprehensive  introduction  in  these  words  :  (As 
he  spoke,  he  thrust  one  hand  behind  his  coat  tail, 


74  THE  ENCHANTED. 

and  gracefully  waved  the  other  to  assist  his  glowing 
declamation,  after  the  manner  of  his  great  proto- 
type.) 

"  Pickwickians !  The  illustrious  man  whose  un- 
worthy representative  I  am  ("  No  !  No  !  "  and  cheers) 
made  one  of  his  greatest  discoveries  by  pure 
accident,  you  remember.  You  know  by  anticipa- 
tion that  I  allude  to  the  wayside  stone  with  that 
mysterious  inscription  which  a  distinguished  Pick- 
wickian of  his  day  (I  will  not  say  rival  and  detrac- 
tor in  the  presence  of  our  friend  Blotton  of 
Aldgate)  pronounced  to  be  nothing  more  than  '  Bill 
Stumps — His  Mark.'  But  no  one  will  for  a 
moment  gainsay  the  undoubted  value  of  an  acci- 
dental discovery  recently  made  by  me,  for  it  is  no 
less  than  that  of  these  two  American  gentlemen, 
whom  I  now  have  the  extreme  pleasure  of  intro- 
ducing to  you.  (Immense  cheering,  during  which 
the  recipients  of  the  honor  modestly  bowed,  with 
their  hands  on  their  hearts.) 

"Let  me  tell  you  how  and  where  I  found  them. 
The  other  morning  I  strolled  out  to  Fort  Pitt 
for  exercise.  As  I  drew  near  the  spot  where 
Mr.  Winkle  and  Dr.  Slammer  of  the  Ninety- 
seventh  met  to  settle  their  little  misunderstanding, 
I  observed  two  gentlemen  pacing  off  ground  with 
the  greatest  care.  Having  finally  measured  it  to 
their  perfect  satisfaction,  they  took  their  position 


WITH  DICKENS  AT  THE  BULL  INN.  75 

at  the  ends  of  an  imaginary  line  and  raised  their 
right  arms  toward  one  another.  Were  they  about 
to  fight  a  duel?  Unfortunately  I  had  left  my 
spectacles  at  home  and  could  not  see  distinctly 
whether  their  hands  held  pistols  or  not.  Their 
attitudes  were  certainly  hostile.  My  magisterial 
duty  was  plain.  I  must  interfere  to  prevent  the 
effusion  of  blood  and  punish  those  who  dared  to 
violate  the  law  even  by  intention.  '  Hold  ! '  I 
cried,  at  the  top  of  my  voice,  running  toward  them 
as  fast  as  my  weight  would  permit  ;  '  I  am  a  magis- 
trate.' The  two  gentlemen  burst  out  laughing, 
and  when  I  reached  them  in  a  breathless  condition, 
it  was  some  minutes  before  they  could  recover 
themselves.  Meanwhile,  I  noticed  no  signs  of 
deadly  weapons  ;  and  the  hilarious  manner  of  the 
supposed  duelists  convinced  me  that  they  were  the 
best  of  friends.  'Excuse  me,  gentlemen,'  I  said; 
'  there  is  evidently  some  mistake  here.' 

"  '  None  on  our  part  I  hope,'  said  the  taller  of 
the  two  (Meldrum  nodded  his  corroboration  of  the 
words.)  '  We  should  be  very  sorry  to  have  spent 
an  hour  trying  to  identify  the  scene  of  the  Slam- 
mer-Winkle duel  that  didn't  come  off,  and  be 
mistaken  after  all.  We  thought  we  had  found  it 
and  were  for  the  moment  imagining  ourselves 
Winkle  and  Slammer  respectively.  It  was  a 
tableau  representing  the  principals  taking  aim  just 


76  THE  ENCHANTED. 

before  the  surgeon  of  the  Ninety-seventh,  having 
put  on  his  glasses,  discovered  that  Winkle  was  not 
the  man  with  whom  he  had  the  difficulty  the  night 
before.  You  must  think  it  very  foolish,'  continued 
the  gentleman,  '  but  we  arc  Americans,  on  the  track 
of  the  Pickwick  Club.  Perhaps  you  can  tell  us  if 
this  is  the  place  we  arc  in  search  of.' 

"  '  It  is,'  said  I,  repressing  my  pleasure  at  recog- 
nizing a  spirit  kindred  to  our  own.  (Deafening 
applause.) 

"  '  Are  you  sure  ?'  asked  the  other  gentleman,  with 
anxiety,  which  showed  the  deep  interest  he  took  in 
the  answer. 

"  '  I  ought  to  be,'  I  cried,  no  longer  able  to  con- 
tain myself,  '  for  I  am  Mr.  Pickwick.'  They  looked 
at  me  with  astonishment,  evidently  supposing  I  was 
mad. 

"'Well,  you  look  like  him,  anyhow'  they  then 
said.  (A  ringing  volley  of  laughter  from  the  club 
entire  testified  the  truth  of  this  remark.) 

"  '  When  I  say  I  am  Mr.  Pickwick,'  I  continued,  '  I 
mean  that  that  is  my  official  title  as  President  of 
the  new  Pickwick  Club.  You  must  follow  the  trail 
of  the  club  to  its  lair  at  the  Bull  Inn,  where  I 
pledge  you  a  rousing  reception.' 

" '  A  thousand  thanks,'  they  said  ;  '  but  you  do 
not  know  who  we  are  ';  and  they  proceeded  to  hunt 
for  their  cards. 


WITH  DICKENS  A  T  THE  BULL  INN.  77 

" '  Your  names  matter  not,'  I  replied.  '  It  will 
suffice  for  the  club  that  you  are  Americans,  sharing 
our  admiration  for  the  matchless  humor  of  Charles 
Dickens  as  shown  in  the  Pickwick  Papers,  and  pay- 
ing the  highest  tribute  to  his  genius  by  visiting  this 
spot.' "  (Frantic  cheering,  which  cut  short  any 
further  explanation  from  Mr.  Pickwick,  if  any  had 
been  needed,  as  it  was  not.) 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE   NEW   PICKWICK   CLUB   ELECTS   TWO    HON- 
ORARY   MEMBERS. 

MELDRUM  did  not  possess  the  gift  of  fluent  pub- 
lic speaking  attributed  to  all  Americans  by  foreign- 
ers, but  he  recognized  the  necessity  of  upholding 
that  current  belief  to  the  best  of  his  humble  ability. 
He  sidled  up  to  the  little  table  of  the  Vice-Chair- 
man, put  one  hand  on  it  to  steady  himself,  and 
thrust  the  other  into  the  recesses  of  his  vest  to 
get  that  unruly  member  out  of  the  way.  The 
Pickwickians  had  seated  themselves  (at  a  gesture 
from  their  revered  chief)  and  were  looking  at  him 
through  the  kindest  of  eyes.  Mr.  Pickwick  himself 
stood  by  his  side,  his  head  slightly  bent  forward  to 
lose  not  a  word.  Meld  rum  felt  that  he  was  indeed 
among  his  friends.  Thus  emboldened,  he  began  by 
modestly  returning  thanks  for  the  extraordinary  com- 
pliment paid  to  two  men  whose  only  possible  title  to 
it  was  their  profound  admiration  of  Dickens's  master- 
piece. (Resounding  cries  of  "  That  is  enough !  " 
"  But  you  are  Americans,  too  !  "  Mr.  Pickwick  him- 
self audibly  added,  "  We  love  'em.")  These  warm 

73 


THE  NEW  PICKWICK  CLUB.  79 

expressions  greatly  reduced  the  intensity  of  Mel- 
drum's  nervousness.  He  came  to  look  upon  his 
hearers  not  as  an  audience  but  as  a  family  circle,  to 
which  he  was  not  making  a  speech  but  only  talking 
conversationally.  After  a  few  halts  and  mumbles 
he  said  what  he  had  to  say  in  a  manner  which  his 
subsequent  recollection  of  it  did  not  wholly  condemn. 
He  gave  the  Pickwickians  a  little  outline  of  what 
his  friend  and  himself  had  done  in  England  during 
the  previous  month.  When  in  London  they  had 
lodged  at  the  Golden  Cross,  Strand,  from  which  an- 
cient inn  the  coach  had  set  out  that  bore  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  his  friends  to  Rochester  and  world-wide 
fame.  They  had  never  looked  out  of  their  parlor 
window  without  recalling  in  imagination,  and  he 
might  say  witnessing,  (sensation)  the  assault  upon  the 
little  group  of  Pickwickians  by  the  infuriated  cab- 
man. They  had  fondly  recreated  every  feature  of 
the  scene  and  struggle.  In  this  labor  of  love  they 
would  have  been  much  assisted  if  they  had  known 
the  precise  locality  of  that  pump  under  which  the 
hot-pie  man  suggested  that  the  supposed  informers 
should  be  put.  Could  some  gentleman  present  tell 
them  where  it  was  situated  ?  ("  In  the  court-yard 
of  the  old  inn,  now  closed  up  and  built  over,"  re- 
sponded Mr.  Pickwick  instantly,  for  he  was  a  per- 
fect encyclopaedia  of  information  on  the  subject.) 
Meldrum  had  feared  that  his  curiosity  on  this  point 


8o  THE   EX  CHAN  TED. 

might  be  thought  trivial.  (Cries  of  "  It  docs  you 
honor,"  "  Nothing  is  trifling  to  the  true  Pickwick- 
ian," "We  love  you  for  it,"  etc.,  etc.)  They  had 
spent  a  delightful  day  tracing  out  what  was 
left — alas  too  little  !— of  the  White  Hart  and  the 
George  and  Vulture.  They  confessed  that  the 
Wellers,  father  and  son,  interested  them  quite  as 
much  as  any  of  the  other  heroes  of  the  enchanting 
story  save  the  one  and  only  Samuel  Pickwick,  Es- 
quire. (The  Pickwick  of  the  hour  smilingly  bowed 
his  thanks.)  In  saying  this  they  would  be  under- 
stood to  derogate  nothing  from  the  great  claims 
that  Mr.  Winkle,  Mr.  Tupman,  and  Air.  Snodgrass, 
must  ever  have  on  their  respectful  homage  as  the 
immediate  comrades  of  the  renowned  leader.  (Here 
the  junior  barrister,  the  curate,  and  the  gentleman 
from  Gad's  Hill  rose  and  made  mute  acknowledg- 
ments.) Of  course,  as  Pickwickian  pilgrims  they 
had  not  omitted  Guildhall  and  Gray's  Inn  and  other 
localities  introduced  in  the  matchless  episode  of  the 
case  of  Bardell  vs.  Pickwick.  And  it  need  hardly 
be  said  that  they  had  not  forgotten  Furnival's  Inn, 
in  an  upper  chamber  of  which  that  book  was  written 
which  is  richer  in  genuine  humor  and  contains  a 
larger  number  and  variety  of  original  and  interest- 
ing characters  than  any  other  one  book  of  any 
country  or  any  age.  (Stentorian  applause.)  If  there 
was  any  scapegrace  in  the  whole  range  of  fiction 


THE  NEW  PICKWICK  CLUB.  81 

more  fascinating  than  Bob  Sawyer,  they  had  not 
yet  found  him.  It  was  Bob  Sawyer's  party  that 
had  inspired  them  to  undertake  a  thorough  explo- 
ration of  Lant  Street,  in  the  Borough,  for  the  ro- 
mantic purpose  of  fixing  upon  Mrs.  Raddles's  lodg- 
ing-house. As  the  Pickwick  Papers  afforded  no 
clew  to  that  domicile,  they  had  preconceived  a 
building  very  old  and  rickety,  some  least  desira- 
ble survivor  of  the  unfittest  among  the  improve- 
ments of  the  last  fifty  years,  as  one  that  might,  per- 
haps, have  been  in  Dickens's  eye.  Great  was  their 
disappointment  to  discover  that  most  of  the  houses 
in  Lant  Street  answered  that  general  description. 
It  was  a  question  which  one  of  a  hundred  shabby 
fronts  should  be  mentally  associated  in  the  future 
with  Bob  Sawyer's  party.  They  had  reluctantly 
given  it  up  after  inspecting  Lant  Street  from  end 
to  end.  (Murmurs  of  sympathy,  as  every  member  of 
the  club  recalled  his  equally  unsuccessful  efforts  to 
do  the  same  thing.)  Not  less  fruitless  was  their 
persevering  labor  to  identify  Mr.  Pickwick's  resi- 
dence in  Goswell  Street.  They  would  never  dare 
to  tell  anybody  but  a  confirmed  Pickwickian,  that 
they  had  walked  up  that  street  on  one  side  and 
down  on  the  other,  and  actually  canvassed  the  proba- 
bilities that  this  or  that  or  the  other  very  old  house 
was  the  one  where  Mrs.  Bardell  was  the  landlady 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  the  contented  lodger,  till  she  made 


8 2  THE  ENCHANTED. 

him  defendant  in  the  funniest  breach-of-promise 
suit  ever  reported.  They  had  taken  many  walks 
and  rides  about  London  on  similar  expeditions, 
which  some  would  doubtless  call  sentimental.  (Cries 
of  "  So  they  are  !  "  "  That  is  the  highest  praise  !  ") 
Possibly  foolish.  ("No — never!")  Some  were  suc- 
cessful, others  not.  But  they  (Messrs.  Meldrum 
and  Wadlow)  were  free  to  say  that  their  search  in 
that  great  city  for  places  explicitly  mentioned  or 
vaguely  referred  to  in  the  Pickwick  Papers,  had  been 
for  them  the  chief  pleasure  of  their  first  visit  to 
London.  They  could  specify  no  better  proof  than 
their  own  delightful  experience  of  the  immense 
power  wielded  upon  receptive  minds  by  one  of 
the  truest  enchanters  that  ever  lived — Charles 
Dickens.  (Prolonged  and  tumultuous  applause, 
every  member  rising  and  waving  his  handkerchief.) 
When  quiet  was  restored,  Meldrum  summarized 
briefly  the  rest  of  their  Pickwickian  journeyings  up 
to  date.  They  had  not  conformed  to  the  exact 
itinerary  of  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends.  For  con- 
venience they  had  reserved  Rochester  as  the  last, 
and,  it  might  be  added,  the  best.  ("  Hear!  Hear!" 
from  all  parts  of  the  room.)  After  an  excursion 
from  London  to  the  Marquis  of  Gran  by  at  Dork- 
ing, out  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  Mrs.  Weller 
and  the  saintly  Stiggins,  they  had  struck  due  west 
for  Bath.  The  White  Hart  Hotel,  the  Grand  Pump 


THE  NEW  PICKWICK  CLUti.  83 

Room,  the  Royal  Crescent  where  the  four  Pick- 
wickians  lodged  during  the  greater  part  of  their 
stay  at  Bath,  and  High  Street,  upon  which  had 
stood,  in  former  years,  the  small  green  grocer's 
shop  where  Mr.  Weller  shared  a  friendly  "  swarry  " 
with  a  select  company  of  the  Bath  footmen — all 
these  had  a  peculiar  charm  solely  derivable  from 
their  incidental  mention  in  the  Posthumous  Papers 
of  the  Pickwick  Club.  They  had  tasted  the  cha- 
lybeate waters  only  to  certify  the  accuracy  of  Mr. 
Wcller's  statement  that  "  they'd  a  wery  strong 
flavor  o'  warm  flat-irons."  Thence  to  the  Bush 
Inn,  Bristol,  scene  of  the  Winkle-Dowler  difficulty. 
Besides  the  happiness  of  recalling  that  ludicrous  oc- 
currence with  the  aid  of  all  the  original  scenic 
properties,  it  had  been  their  good  fortune  to  settle, 
quite  beyond  cavil,  the  precise  location  of  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer's  surgery.  At  all  events,  the  premises  to 
which  the  speaker  referred  tallied,  inside  and  out,  in 
the  minutest  particulars,  with  those  where  Mr.  Saw- 
yer kept  up  his  delusive  show  of  professional  em- 
ployment. The  red  lamp  and  the  inscription,  "sur- 
gery," in  golden  characters  on  a  wainscot  ground, 
still  existed  (Meldrum  was  pleased  to  say)  to  assure 
the  world  that  the  same  "snug  little  business"  was 
yet  carried  on  at  the  same  old  stand  to  this  day. 
(At  this  announcement  a  thrill  of  delight  like  a 
wave  passed  over  the  little  audience.) 


84  THE  ENCHANTED. 

The  Angel  at  Bury  St.  Edmunds,  the  White 
Horse  at  Ipswich,  the  Leather  Bottle  at  Cobham, 
and  the  Bull  at  Rochester  (as  to  which  they  fully 
corroborated  Mr.  Jingle's  encomium  of  "good  house 
— nice  beds"),  comprised  the  other  Pickwick  Inns, 
as  they  might  be  called,  at  which  they  had  lodged 
and  fed.  He  trusted  it  did  not  smack  of  irreverence 
or  vulgarity  when  he  added  that  these  old  hostcl- 
ries  were  always  far  more  interesting  to  himself 
and  friend  than  any  cathedral,  or  abbey,  or  castle, 
or  princely  seat  in  the  same  locality,  and  that  they 
were  endeared  to  them  by  associations  as  real  and 
precious  as  those  that  history  links  with  any  struc- 
ture whatever  reared  by  human  hands.  (Great  ap- 
plause.) Meldrum  would  not  longer  detain  his 
kind  friends  with  details — however  pleasurable  to 
themsclevcs — of  their  wanderings,  but  would  con- 
clude by  again  thanking  the  club  for  the  most  hos- 
pitable reception  which  had  been  accorded  them. 
(The  speaker  and  Wadlow  here  seated  themselves 
in  yawning  arm-chairs,  which  were  thrust  under 
them  amid  a  whirlwind  of  cheers.) 

The  portly  gentleman  who  has  been  already 
mentioned  in  these  pages  as  wearing  a  preoccupied 
look,  rose  to  his  feet.  When  he  was  recognized  by 
the  chairman  as  Mr.  Blotton  (of  Aldgatc),  Mel- 
drum  and  Wadlow  smiled  and  nodded  their  ap- 
proval of  the  happy  thought  that  had  put  him  for- 


THE  NEW  PICKWICK  CLUB.  85 

ward  as  a  spokesman  of  the  Pickwick  Club  ;  for 
that  a  motion  of  some  importance  was  about  to  be 
made  by  him  was  apparent  from  the  extreme  grav- 
ity of  his  face  and  a  preliminary  licking  of  the  lips, 
as  if  to  lubricate  the  machinery  of  speech.  Mr. 
Pickwick  led  the  applause  which  welcomed  the 
rising  of  the  restored  Blotton,  and  by  no  means 
tended  to  relieve  him  of  his  constitutional  diffi- 
dence. The  exact  speech  which  Mr.  Blotton  (of 
Aldgate)  had  memorized  for  the  occasion  did  not 
come  back  to  his  mind  until  after  the  exercises  of 
the  evening  were  all  over  and  he  was  bound  home- 
ward in  his  private  carriage.  But  the  speech  which 
he  actually  delivered  was  none  the  less  effective  be- 
cause it  was  short  and  interrupted  by  a  good  many 
hems  and  haws,  for  its  sincerity  and  underlying 
warmth  of  feeling  were  obvious.  Mr.  Blotton  (of 
Aldgate)  managed  to  say  that,  in  the  opinion  of  all 
the  members  whom  he  had  hastily  consulted,  the 
club  should  testify  in  some  suitable  way  to  the  ex- 
treme gratification  they  had  derived  from  the  un- 
affected and  eloquent  remarks  of  the  distinguished 
American  gentleman.  ("Hear!  Hear!")  Merely 
as  Americans,  that  gentleman  and  his  esteemed 
associate  deserved  the  best  wishes  of  all  English- 
men because  of  the  kindly  sentiments  which  they 
evidently  felt  toward  the  old  home  and  the  old 
kinsfolk.  (Cheers.)  But  to  this  strong  claim  upon 


86  THE  EXCHAXTED. 

the  hospitality  of  all  present  they  had  added,  per- 
haps, the  stronger  one  of  being — Pickwickians. 
(Great  applause.)  They  had  made — of  course,  he 
said  it  with  the  caution  and  reserve  of  a  confirmed 
archaeologist  —  a  discovery  at  Bristol  which  im- 
mensely enriched  the  fast  vanishing  stock  of  Pick- 
wickian relics  and  mementoes.  (Much  enthusiasm.) 
As  a  small  token  of  the  club's  appreciation  of 
these  valuable  services,  and  as  a  mark  of  good  will 
to  their  American  cousins,  he  begged  to  move 
that  Mr.  Felix  Mcldrum  and  Mr.  Madison  Wadlow, 
of  New  York,  be  and  are  hereby  elected  Honorary 
Members  of  the  New  Pickwick  Club,  of  Rochester, 
England.  (Tremendous  demonstrations  of  approval 
of  every  known  variety.) 

Mr.  Winkle  seconded  the  motion  in  a  short,  felici- 
tous speech,  and,  being  put  by  the  Acting  Chair- 
man, it  was  carried  with  a  chorus  of  "  yeas  "  that 
rattled  the  window-panes.  All  semblance  of  order 
was  then  thrown  aside,  and  the  members  thronged 
about  the  Americans, shook  their  hands,  patted  them 
on  the  back,  and  generally  violated,  in  the  most 
flagrant  manner,  all  the  traditions  of  British  reserve. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Pickwick  had  given  a  precon- 
certed signal,  upon  which  the  door  was  opened  by 
unseen  hands  and  a  delicious  odor  penetrated  the 
apartment.  It  proved  to  emanate  from  an  enor- 
mous bowl,  borne  aloft  with  scrupulous  care  by  a 


THE  NEW  PICKWICK  CLUB.  87 

waiter  clad  in  the  club  livery.  From  its  invisible 
interior  a  steam  arose  like  incense,  of  a  pungency 
and  fragrance  which  carried  Meldrum  and  Wadlow 
back  for  the  moment  to  their  college  days,  with 
whose  memories  it  was  indissolubly  associated. 
The  servant  advanced  with  a  stately  tread  as  if  con- 
scious of  his  great  responsibility,  and  placed  the 
steaming  bowl  on  the  center-table,  the  use  of  which 
now  became  apparent.  As  it  was  lowered  to  the 
level  of  the  eye,  one  discovered  beneath  the  softly 
curling  vapors  a  rich  amber  liquid  in  which  golden 
bits  of  lemon  bobbed  up  and  down.  A  second  uni- 
formed waiter  entered  with  a  jingling  tray  of  glasses, 
and  a  third  with  two  dozen  long-stemmed  clay  pipes 
tipped  with  red  sealing-wax,  and  a  huge  jar  of  light- 
colored  fine-cut  tobacco.  The  deep  hush  which 
had  fallen  upon  the  club,  while  these  mysterious 
preparations  were  taking  place,  was  broken  by  Mr. 
Pickwick,  who  moved  that  the  club  do  now  adjourn 
for  refreshments.  This  motion  prevailed  without 
even  the  formality  of  a  vote,  Joseph  Smiggers, 
Esq.,  vacating  the  chair  precipitately,  as  if  he  had 
become  a  little  tired  of  the  protracted  dry  talking. 
They  all  gathered  around  the  center-table,  or  as 
near  to  it  as  they  could  get,  and  proceeded  to  test 
the  contents  of  the  great  bowl,  which  were  ladled 
out  by  the  waiter's  practised  hand.  When  to  the 
odor  of  the  liquid  was  joined  the  tasting  of  it,  Mel- 


88  THE  ENC1IAXTE1). 

drum  and  Wad  low  had  no  hesitation  in  classifying 
it  as  punch, — and  very  good  punch.  Mr.  Pickwick, 
who  sat  next  to  them,  had  watched  them  with 
some  interest  as  they  raised  the  glasses  to  their 
lips.  A  gleam  of  pleasure  shot  through  his  specta- 
cles as  he  marked  the  gratified  expression  of  their 
faces,  while  they  drained  the  goblets  to  the  last 
drop.  "  We  call  it  Pickwick  Punch,"  he  at  length 
explained,  in  his  most  genial  manner.  "  It  is 
brewed  from  a  recipe  which  has  been  for  a  century 
in  the  possession  of  the  Bull  Inn.  \Yc  may  readily 
imagine  its  like  to  have  been  enjoyed  by  the  orig- 
inal Pickwickians  during  their  stay  here." 

"  It  is  worthy  of  them,"  said  Meldrum,  smacking 
his  lips  and  holding  out  his  glass  for  another  ladlc- 
ful. 

Mr.  Pickwick  furthermore  informed  his  new 
friends  that  the  constitution  of  the  club  expressly 
enjoined  the  observance  of  simplicity  in  their  enter- 
tainments. Punch  and  pipes  were  their  only  festive 
indulgences  on  occasions  even  of  ceremony.  The 
sole  exception  to  the  stringent  rule  was  made  on 
Christmas  eve,  when  a  costume  ball  was  given  in 
the  same  great  hall  of  the  hotel  where  the  famous 
mixed  assembly  was  held  on  the  T3th  of  May,  1827. 
Then  only  were  the  extravagances  of  a  supper  per- 
mitted. Meldrum  and  Wadlow  were  pleased  with 
this  intelligence,  for  they  had  feared  the  possibility 


THE  NEW  PICKWICK  CLUB.  89 

of  a  formal  banquet  in  reserve,  with  interminable 
set  speeches  and  other  tedious  concomitants. 
"  Songs,  stories,  tales  of  adventure,  local  traditions, 
reports  of  investigations  throwing  light  upon  the 
obscure  manners  and  customs  of  the  dear  old  Pick- 
wick era,  and  more  accurately  identifying  places 
mentioned  under  fictitious  names  in  the  Papers, — 
these  (said  Mr.  Pickwick)  form  the  innocent  exer- 
cises at  our  regular  meetings.  We  firmly  believe 
that  the  Founder  himself  would  relish  our  society  if 
that  most  real  of  imagined  characters  could  be  with 
us  bodily."  In  this  opinion  the  Americans  fully 
agreed,  when  the  gentle  stimulus  of  the  punch  had 
unlocked  the  tongues  of  all  present.  Every  one  con- 
tributed of  liis  best  freely  and  spontaneously  to  the 
harmless  mirth  and  glorious  good  fellowship  of  the 
evening.  It  was  a  point  of  honor  with  all  to  listen 
attentively  to  and  applaud  the  efforts  of  each  as  he 
sought  to  add  to  the  common  stock  of  pleasure. 
While  this  award  was  denied  to  no  one,  special 
favor  and  grace  were  vouchsafed  to  a  story  of 
Western  life,  well  told  by  Meldrum,  and  to  a  new 
sentimental  song,  set  to  a  new  tune  and  rendered  in 
a  good  tenor  voice  by  Wadlow.  The  latter  re- 
ceived an  enthusiastic  encore,  which  was  responded 
to  by  a  couple  of  fresh  stanzas,  and  when  the  singer 
was  pressed  for  the  names  of  the  author  and  com- 
poser, he  replied,  "  A  friend  of  Meldrum," 


9°  THE   EXCHAXTED. 

"  In  other  words,  Wadlow  himself,"  said  Mel- 
drum,  punching  his  comrade  in  the  ribs  in  the  full- 
ness of  his  heart.  Whereupon  a  copy  of  the  words 
and  music  was  asked  for  by  Mr.  Winkle,  as  perpetual 
secretary,  for  preservation  in  the  archives  of  the 
club. 

It  was  not  till  a  second  bowl  of  the  excellent 
punch  had  been  finished  and  the  tobacco  supply  re- 
duced to  a  mere  pinch  of  snuff  in  the  bottom  of  the 
jar  that  the  party  broke  up  with  Auld  Lang  Syne 
and  all  hands  round. 

It  had  been  the  privilege  of  Meldrum  and  Wad- 
low  to  occupy,  during  their  short  sojourn  at  the 
Bull  Inn,  a  spacious  double-bedded  room  known  as 
"the  Pickwick."  It  was  firmly  and  truly  believed 
by  all  the  chambermaids  of  the  house  to  have  been 
tenanted  by  the  great  man  himself.  Having  often 
heard  his  honored  name  mentioned  with  the  deepest 
respect  by  so  many  visitors,  he  was  to  them  as 
actual  a  personage  of  the  past  as  Lord  Nelson  or 
the  Duke  of  Wellington.  They  bestowed  an  affec- 
tionate solicitude  upon  their  care  of  the  room,  shar- 
ing, without  knowing  the  reason  why,  the  profound 
interest  which  strangers  from  all  parts  of  the  world 
exhibited  in  it. 

When  the  two  Americans,  after  detaching  them- 
selves with  much  difficulty  from  the  tenacious  grasp 
of  the  jovial  company  down-stairs,  proceeded  to  re- 


THE  NEW  PICKWICK  CLUB.  91 

tire  for  the  night,  they  found  it  harder  than  ever  to 
shake  off  the  impression  that  the  Pickwick  Papers 
were  no  fiction,  but  formal  biography,  though  cynics 
may  say  that  there  is  little  difference,  if  any,  be- 
tween the  two  kinds  of  books.  They  both  fell 
asleep  while  musing  on  the  potency  of  that  enchan- 
ter, who,  after  a  lapse  of  fifty  years,  had  called  them 
from  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  to  see  the  places 
haunted  by  the  shade  of  an  imaginary  hero  and  to 
take  part  in  the  proceedings  of  a  club  that  bore  his 
name  and  perpetuated  his  memory,  on  the  very  spot 
where  his  unreality  was  best  known. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

\YITII    SCOTT   AT    KEX1  L\V(  )RT1I. 

"  WAITER,  can't  we  have  our  chops  served  on 
those  old  tin  plates  ?  " 

Meldrum  was  the  speaker.  lie  pointed  to  cer- 
tain battered  disks  of  shining  metal,  carefully  ranged 
on  the  top  shelf  of  a  sideboard  near  the  table  where 
lie  and  Wadlow  awaited  luncheon. 

The  waiter  shifted  his  napkin  from  one  arm  to 
the  other,  drew  himself  up  with  some  dignity,  and 
replied,  "  Them  is  Kenil'orth  plates,  sir  ;  the  real 
harticle,  and,  bcggin'  your  parding,  not  tin,  but 
solid  pewter."  lie  could  not  have  laid  more 
emphasis  on  the  name  of  the  material  had  it  been 
sterling  silver.  Then,  observing  a  look  of  in- 
credulity on  the  questioner's  face,  he  added,  "  They 
'as  the  genooin  horiginal  mark  on  the  back,  you 
see."  He  took  one  from  its  perch  and  exhibited 
"  K.  C."  deeply  engraved  in  old  English  text.  The 
two  friends  inspected  it  with  much  curiosity. 

"  Whether  authenticated  or  not,  they'll  give  an 
archaic  flavor  to  the  chops,"  said  Wadlow. 

The  waiter  did  not  catch  the  precise  import  of 
92 


WITH  SCOTT  AT  KENILWORTH.  93 

this  remark,  owing  to  the  limited  extent  of  his 
vocabulary ;  but  he  scented  skepticism  in  it.  It 
was  in  an  indignant  tone  that  he  further  explained, 
in  response  to  the  first  query,  "  They  is  hextry,  sir, 
six  pence  apiece." 

"  All  right,  we'll  take  them,"  said  Meldrum,  as 
delighted  as  his  companion  to  carve  the  slow- 
coming  chop  on  a  pewter  plate  which  might,  for 
aught  he  knew,  have  shone  in  the  buttery  of  Kenil- 
worth,  three  hundred  years  ago.  "  And  those  big 
pewter  mugs?"  he  continued,  interrogatively, 
nodding  at  some  badly  dinted,  but  highly  polished, 
objects  of  that  description  suspended  from  nails,  by 
their  handles,  just  above  the  plates. 

"  Kenil'orth  mugs,"  answered  the  waiter,  dis- 
tantly ;  but  this  time  he  did  not  show  the  identify- 
ing initials  which  adorned  their  sides,  expecting  his 
hearers  to  take  him  at  his  word.  "  It's  thry  pence 
hextry  to  use  'em." 

"  Very  good.  Fill  them  with  the  oldest  of  old 
ale,"  exclaimed  Meldrum,  and  he  smacked  his  lips 
in  anticipation  of  the  deep,  cool  draught  of  that 
nourishing  fluid  which  he  had  good  reason  to 
expect  from  the  tap-room  of  the  best  inn  in  Kenil- 
worth.  Then,  still  pursuing  his  researches  for  the 
antique,  his  eye  fell  on  what  seemed  a  piece  of 
wood-carving,  brown  with  age,  which  decorated  the 
sideboard.  "  What's  that?"  he  asked. 


94  THE   E  \CHAX  TED. 

"Wcnison  pasty,  sir.  Its  'arf  a  crown  to  cut 
it." 

"  From  Kenilworth  castle  ?  " 

This  ironical  inquiry  was  received  by  the  waiter 
with  deserved  silence,  as  he  carefully  unhooked  the 
desired  pewter  utensils  and  proceeded  to  leave  the 
room  with  them. 

Mcldrum  sought  to  placate  his  hurt  feelings  with 
an  order  to  follow  the  chops  with  the  venison  pic. 

"  Pasty,  sir,"  said  the  waiter,  correcting  him,  as 
he  vanished. 

The  Americans  accepted  the  correction  in  a 
thankful  spirit.  Drawn  to  Kenilworth  by  the  mag- 
netism of  Scott's  great  novel,  they  desired,  before 
visiting  the  castle,  to  put  themselves  into  the  most 
proper  condition  of  mind  to  recreate,  if  possible, 
the  noble  pile  which  Scott  describes,  and  to 
repeople  it  with  the  historic  characters  who  live  and 
move  in  his  immortal  pages.  They  were  inclined  to 
accept  the  pewter  plates  and  the  mugs  as  relics  of 
Leicester's  Kenilworth  with  blind  faith.  They 
cheerfully  admitted  that  the  dish  of  venison  would 
taste  better  as  pasty  than  as  pie— because  the 
former  was  undoubtedly  the  name  under  which  it 
would  have  been  eaten  at  the  grand  banquet  given 
to  Queen  Elizabeth  by  her  courtier-lover  at  his 
splendid  castle  in  1575. 

In  due  time  the  chops  were  brought  in,  flanked 


WITH  SCOTT  AT  KENILWORTU.  95 

by  large  mealy  potatoes  in  their  jackets,  and  the 
marrowfat  peas  and  cauliflower  for  which  England 
is  deservedly  famous.  The  pewter  plates  had  been 
heated  nearly  to  the  melting  point,  and  the  meat 
hissed  as  it  touched  the  fervid  metal.  The  old  ale 
proved  to  be  worthy  of  the  old  mugs,  which  in  turn 
seemed  to  impart  a  relishing  electric  twang  to  the 
contents.  Mcldrum  had  looked  forward  with  much 
pleasure  to  the  production  of  the  venison  pasty  as 
the  second  course.  He  had  mischievously  planned 
the  summary  destruction  of  the  imposing  work  by 
plunging  a  carving  knife  deep  into  its  reeking 
bowels  and  then  giving  it  two  quick  cuts,  hari-kari 
fashion.  lie  and  Wad  low  had  speculated  on  the 
consternation  of  the  waiter  when  he  should  see  the 
elaborate  structure  brutally  sacrificed  in  this  way. 
Great  was  their  chagrin  when  that  person  placed  the 
pasty  on  the  table,  and  without  a  preliminary  word, 
proceeded  to  dissect  out  two  thin  wedge-like  seg- 
ments— an  operation  which  required  a  wrist  of  iron. 
The  crust  was  a  full  inch  thick,  with  almost  the  re- 
sisting power  of  wood  itself.  A  hammer  and  chisel 
and  fine  saw  seemed  to  be  the  implements  most 
suitable  for  exposing  the  interior.  Then  he  scooped 
up  with  a  tablespoon  the  accompanying  diminutive 
portions  of  meat,  dry,  if  not  moldy  with  age. 

When  this  second  course  was  placed  ceremoni- 
ously before  the  guests,  they  looked  at  it,  sniffed  at 


96  THE   EXC1IAXTED. 

it,  probed  it  with  forks,  and  then  expressed  their 
regret  that  the  hearty  repast  afforded  them  by  the 
first  course  should  have  compelled  them  to  forego 
the  pleasure  of  testing  the  unquestioned  merits  of 
the  venison  pasty.  Whereat  the  waiter  looked  so 
much  grieved  that  Meldrum  tipped  him  a  shilling 
on  the  spot  with  gratifying  effect.  lie  then  con- 
sulted his  watch  and  moved  back  from  the  table 
with  the  remark,  "  Now  for  the  castle.  I  wish  we 
had  a  good  guide  who  would  speak  only  when  he  is 
spoken  to." 

"  I  can  get  you  one  in  a  minute,  sir,"  said  the 
waiter,  politely.  I  le  stepped  briskly  to  the  door  and 
called  "  Flib !  Flib!"  as  if  to  a  dog  outside.  A 
moment  later  a  shock-headed  boy, — if  he  was  not 
an  undersized  man, — dressed  in  homespun  clothing, 
and  awkward  in  every  expression  and  movement, 
appeared  upon  the  threshold  as  if  he  had  responded 
to  a  summons  not  unexpected.  "  This  is  Flib,"  ex- 
plained the  waiter;  "the  best  guide  to  Kcnihvorth. 
He  thought  you  might  like  him  for  the  job  and  was 
hangin'  round." 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Meldrum,  "  but  you  have  a 
very  singular  name — Flib,  as  I  understand  it." 

"  It's  short  for  Flibbertigibbet,"  was  the  only  re- 
sponse. 

"Oh,  I  sec  !   the  impish  dwarf  in  the  story." 

"  Exackly." 


WITH  SCOTT  AT  KENILWORTH.  97 

As  the  stunted  person  proffered  no  further  expla- 
nation, the  waiter  spoke  up  for  him. 

"  You'll  recollcck,  sir,  that  the  reel  name  of  Flib- 
bertigibbet was  Richard  Sludge.  This  ere  boy,"- 
he  corrected  himself — "  man,  is  a  genooin  Richard 
Sludge,  who  come  straight  down  from  the  one  that 
lived  here  three  hundred  years  ago.  The  Sludges  is 
one  of  the  oldest  families  in  these  parts." 

The  dwarf  nodded  as  if  with  ancestral  pride,  his 
stolid  countenance  betraying  no  sign  of  duplicity. 

The  Americans  had  often  read  of  the  generative 
persistence  with  which  humble  names  have  been 
handed  down  for  centuries  by  families  that  are 
rooted  like  the  sturdiest  oaks  in  the  tenant  farms  of 
England.  They  were  not  prepared  to  say  that 
Dickie  Sludge's  genealogical  descent  could  not  be 
as  clearly  traced  back  in  the  county  records  as  that 
of  the  Earl  of  Warwick.  If,  as  was  probable,  the 
name  was  picked  up  by  Scott  during  his  sojourn  at 
Kenilworth,  while  gathering  local  traditions  for  his 
novel  and  utilized  in  the  tale  because  of  its  quaint- 
ness,  then  that  was  another  evidence  of  the  charrn 
wrought  by  the  potent  wizard  of  the  North.  Even 
the  yokels  and  hinds  of  Kenilworth  testified  to  the 
reality  of  the  universal  spell  in  asserting  their  lineal 
claims  of  associations  with  the  glorious  memories  of 
the  castle. 

Meldrum  and  Wadlow  preferred  to   accept  the 


98  THE  ENCHANTED. 

guide's  pretensions  without  challenge,  enhancing, 
as  these  did,  the  illusion  which  they  were  anxious  to 
encourage  to  the  utmost,  however  much  self-decep- 
tion it  might  involve. 

The  little  party  rapidly  covered  the  dusty  mile 
between  the  village  and  the  ruins,  which,  at  a  sud- 
den turn  of  the  road,  came  into  full  view.  The 
guide  did  not  even  say  "there  it  is,"- — a  reticence 
fully  appreciated  by  his  patrons,  who  knew,  from  a 
prolonged  study  of  guide  books  and  photographs, 
precisely  how  the  crumbled  towers  and  battlements 
would  look.  They  had  no  need  of  a  cicerone 
except  to  save  them  a  little  trouble  in  locating 
readily  some  of  the  less  recognizable  features  of  the 
ruins  without  their  Baedeker  or  Murray  in  hand. 

Turning  from  the  shady  road  into  a  large  sunny 
space  which  fronts  the  pile,  they  startled  their  at- 
tendant out  of  his  impassiveness  by  throwing  them- 
selves on  the  green  sward.  But  he  only  looked 
amazed  and  said  nothing.  Their  object  in  thus 
arresting  their  steps,  instead  of  hurrying  to  the 
accomplishment  of  the  tourist's  customary  task, 
was  to  reproduce  the  general  effect  of  Kenilworth 
Castle  by  the  reflected  light  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 
Concentrating  their  gaze  upon  the  shattered 
masonry,  and  excluding  all  disturbing  thoughts, 
they  had  no  difficulty  in  seeing,  through  the  inner 
eye,  the  vast  and  lofty  structure  of  Leicester's  clay. 


WITH  SCOTT  AT  KENILWORTII.  99 

Sworn  comrades  of  many  vagrancies,  they  inter- 
changed thoughts  by  glances,  nods  and  curt  ges- 
tures even  more  than  by  words,  of  which,  in  each 
other's  company,  they  were  never  profuse.  Their 
walking  sticks  were  a  sign  language.  After  some 
minutes  of  a  tacit  survey,  Meldrum  leveled  his  cane 
at  the  obvious  relics  of  a  tower  on  the  right,  raised 
it  at  a  moderate  angle,  and  outlined  in  the  air  the 
probable  original  continuation  of  that  part  of  the 
castle.  Wadlow  assented  with  two  words:  "Caesar's 
Tower." 

"  Observe  the  Queen's  flag  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  wish  there  was  a  wind  to  blow  it  out 
straight." 

Flib  had  followed  the  mysterious  pantomime 
with  eyes  which  seemed  ready  to  burst  from  their 
sockets.  When  the  Royal  Ensign  was  mentioned 
he  started  backward,  as  if  doubting  the  sanity  of 
the  two  gentlemen,  and  meditating  a  hasty  retreat. 
What  he  further  saw  and  heard  did  not  tend  to 
reassure  him.  There  was  another  long  pause,  rilled 
in  by  much  hard  looking  and  unintelligible  bran- 
dishing of  canes,  succeeded  by  nods  and  grunts. 
Then  Wadlow,  whose  attention  had  been  fastened 
upon  the  well-preserved  remains  of  Leicester's  gate- 
way, put  this  question  :  "  How  many  men  can  you 
count  on  those  battlements  ? "  (Pointing  at  the 
place  where  the  crenelated  work  should  have  been, 


ioo  THE  ENCHANTED. 

had  any  been  left  by  the  Puritan  destroyers  and 
the  tooth  of  time.) 

Mcldrum  hesitated  as  if  telling  off  heads.  "  Well, 
fifty.  Can  you  distinguish,  at  this  distance,  the  real 
soldiers  from  the  pasteboard  and  buckram  figures?" 

"Yes,  easily.  The  warder  on  the  ground  there  is 
eight  feet  high,  I  should  say.  A  fellow  of  his  si/.e 
and  strength  could  pick  up  a  Flibcrtigibbct  in  each 
hand." 

At  this  stage  of  a  dialogue,  hitherto  enigmatic, 
the  little  guide  burst  into  laughter,  as  one  who 
makes  a  pleasing  discovery  and  is  much  relieved 
thereby. 

"  Ha,  ha!  You  makes  believe  yon  sees  the 
giant  what  took  up  the  first  Dickie  Sludge  this 
way."  And  with  pantomimic  action,  he  represented 
a  Goliath — personating  the  Colossus  himself  for  the 
moment — stooping  down  and  raising  an  invisible 
dwarf  by  the  nape  of  the  neck  and  holding  that 
feather-weight  at  arms-length  high  in  air. 

The  absurdity  of  the  thing  threw  the  Americans 
into  paroxysms  of  mirth,  which  were  not  diminished 
when  Flib  cried  out,  "You  shall  sec  the  big  'un  lift 
me  over  again.  Please  make  believe  as  hard  as  you 
can,  now."  So  saying,  the  little  man  darted  to  the 
foot  of  Leicester's  gate. 

Meld  rum  and  \Vadlow  slowly  mustered  up  the 
seriousness  necessary  to  make  the  attempt  success- 


WITH  SCOTT  AT  KENILIVORTIT.  101 

ful.  After  Flib  had  stationed  himself  in  the  proper 
place  the  friends  focused  their  minds  upon  him. 
First,  they  transformed  the  awkward  little  lout  into 
an  elegant  undersized  devil,  with  black  jerkin  and 
red  horns  and  cloven  feet,  wanting  only  a  forked 
tail  to  realize  in  miniature  the  arch  fiend  of  old  or- 
thodoxy. The  giant  warder  they  had  already  con- 
jured up,  as  described.  It  now  remained  only  to 
imagine  that  son  of  Anak,  snatching  up  the  demon 
dwarf,  playfully  making  sport  of  his  terror,  then 
lowering  him  to  the  earth  and  dismissing  him  with 
an  affectionate  caress.  So  naturally  and  vividly 
had  Sir  Walter  portrayed  this  amusing  incident — so 
deeply  was  it  stamped  on  the  memory  of  his  two 
enthusiastic  admirers, — that  a  brief  but  determined 
exercise  of  volition  on  their  part  enabled  them  to 
see  it  re-enacted,  as  if  before  their  physical  eyes. 
Even  the  dull-witted  Flib  shared  in  the  illusion  by 
lending  himself  to  it. 

"  Oi  likes  it,"  he  said.  "  The  joyant  didn't 
hurt  me  a  bit." 

Immensely  gratified  by  the  success  of  their  ex- 
periment so  far,  the  friends,  with  Flib  docilely 
following,  instead  of  attempting  to  pilot  them, 
(so  great  a  respect  had  he  already  formed  for 
their  self-guiding  capacity),  rose  to  their  feet  and 
began  a  systematic  exploration  of  the  wide- 
spread ruins,  triumphantly  applying  at  this 


102  THE  ENCHANTED. 

point  and  that  their  peculiar  method  of  recon- 
struction. It  needed  a  rigid  out-barring  of  all 
alien  images  to  call  up  in  that  melancholy  waste 
the  cavalcade  headed  by  the  virgin  queen  on  a 
milk-white  steed,  between  close  hedges  of  pikes 
and  partisans,  with  the  gold-clad  Leicester  on 
her  right,  their  pathway  lighted  by  hundreds  of 
flambeaux  and  the  air  filled  with  exploding 
rockets.  Night  would  have  been  more  favorable 
for  conceiving  the  illuminations  and  the  fire- 
works. But  the  pyrotechnical  display  could  be 
superadded  to  the  other  features  of  the  grand 
pageant,  simply  by  closing  the  eyes,  when  it 
instantly  appeared  on  the  dark  curtain  of  the  lid. 
No  less  easy  was  the  materialization  of  the  torch- 
lit  fleet  of  rafts  and  boats,  and  all  fantastic  floating 
things,  with  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  as  the  divinity  in 
supreme  command,  who  welcomed  the  august 
guest  to  all  the  sport  which  the  castle  and  its 
environs  could  afford.  But  in  order  to  turn 
noisome  swamps  into  clear,  blue  water;  broken 
buttresses  into  lofty,  symmetrical  towers  ;  damp, 
roofless  gaps  into  banqueting  halls;  and  second- 
story  dungeons  into  royal  suites,  one  prerequi- 
site was  indispensable:  there  must  be  a  reason- 
able confidence  in  the  identity  of  localities. 
Given  assurance  on  that  point,  all  else  followed 
quite  as  a  matter  of  course. 


WITH  SCOTT  AT  KENILWORTH.  103 

When  Melclrum  and  Wadlovv  had  made  the  cir- 
cuit of  the  ruins  to  the  Swan  Tower,  they  looked 
near  it  for  some  sign  of  the  grotto  where  the  help- 
less Amy  Robsart  concealed  herself  from  her 
persecutor,  and  was  discovered  by  the  jealous 
queen.  To  imagine  a  grotto  as  picturesque  as  the 
original  was  easy  enough,  if  they  only  knew  its  site. 
Here,  for  the  first  time,  they  turned  to  Flib  for  help. 

"  The  grotto — where  was  it  ?  "  asked   Meldrum. 

The  boy-man's  face  glowed  with  pleasure  as 
he  saw  himself  in  actual  request.  They  followed 
his  beckoning  a  few  rods. 

"  It  was  'ere,  sir,"  pointing  to  the  bare  ground 
in  an  angle  between  two  half-demolished  walls. 
His  brevity  and  positiveness  carried  conviction  to 
minds  that  wished  to  be  convinced.  In  two 
minutes  they  had  the  grotto  up  and  the  rustic 
scats  in  place  and  the  fountain  playing  and  the 
alabaster  column  in  position,  ready  to  lend  sup- 
port to  the  sinking  frame  of  the  lovely  fugitive. 

"  Her  hair  was  brown,"  said  Meldrum,  mus- 
ingly. 

"  And   her  eyes,  also,"   added  Wad  low. 

"  Her  complexion  creamy,"  returned  the  other. 
"  Her  neck  swan-like,  not  in  length,  of  course,  but 
in  grace  of  motion — thus,"  and  Meldrum  twisted 
his  head  in  poor  elucidation  of  his  idea  of 
swan-likeness. 


104  THE  ENCHANTED. 

"  Her   age    eighteen,"    pursued    his    comrade. 

"Her  dress — what  was  her  dress?"  asked  Mel- 
drum. 

Wadlow  shook  his  head.  "  Ah  !  the  book  will 
tell."  He  produced  the  second  volume  of 
Kenihvorth  from  a  side  pocket,  and,  hastily 
thumbing  its  pages,  found  the  required  informa- 
tion. "  Pale,  sea-green  silk." 

"  There— there  she  is  at  last!"  cried  Mcldrum. 
"  Do  you  sec  her  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  !  " 

They  gazed  in  rapt  admiration  at  the  charm- 
ing vision. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  PLEASANT  BREAKING  OF  A  PLEASANT  SPELL. 

"  I  SEES  'cr  too — but  not  there,"  exclaimed  Flib, 
with  unwonted  energy. 

The  friends,  startled,  turned  toward  the  guide, 
and  saw  him  staring  with  open  eyes  and  mouth  at 
the  window  of  a  tower,  some  distance  off. 

"  'Tis  the  lady  'erself,  alive  in  'er  own  room." 

The  allusion  was  instantly  understood.  The 
tower  before  them  was  Mervyn's,  the  least  injured 
of  all  its  kind  in  Kenilworth.  The  apartment 
where  Sir  Walter  lodges  his  ill-starred  heroine  was 
on  the  second  floor  of  Mervyn's  tower,  and  gave  on 
the  Pleasance,  at  the  end  of  which  stood  the  grotto 
whither  she  had  fled  from  a  fate  worse  than  death. 
Framed  in  the  window  which  faced  the  beholders, 
her  looks  bent  on  the  ground  beneath,  they  saw  a 
beautiful  girl,  with  the  brown  hair,  the  white  arch- 
ing neck,  the  healthy  pale  complexion  and  the 
green  dress  of  the  original  Amy  Robsart.  A 
modern  hat  jauntily  cocked  upon  a  head  exquisitely 
shaped,  was  the  only  item  not  comprised  in  Scott's 
inventory  of  the  Countess's  attractions,  native  or 

105 


io6  THE   ENCHANTED. 

artificial.  This  flesh  and  blood  copy  was  far 
superior  to  the  phantom  which  they  had  but  just 
evoked  from  nothingness,  and  they  longed  to  see  it 
at  shorter  range.  In  its  presence  the  grotto  and  its 
furniture  and  its  one  inmate  had  vanished  like 
a  dream  at  waking. 

Fearing  that  the  lovely  being  at  the  window 
would  disappear  before  they  could  reach  her,  the 
friends  strode  hastily  toward  Mcrvyn's  tower,  with 
Flib  again  superfluous  at  their  heels.  They  knew 
from  the  closely-studied  ground  plans  of  Kenil- 
worth,  what  door  to  enter,  what  turnings  to  take, 
and  precisely  how  man}' steps  to  ascend,  in  order  to 
attain  the  "  small  octangular  chamber  "  of  the  story. 
As  they  ncarcd  the  goal,  they  began  to  hear  two 
female  voices,  and  the  words  and  tones  were  those 
of  bosom  friends  engaged  in  a  good-natured  dis- 
pute. 

"  If  we  had  a  dear,  delightful  old  ruin  like  this  out 
in  Minneapolis,"  said  one  voice,  "  wouldn't  it  be  per- 
fectly lovely?  " 

"  You'll  have  ruins  enough  when  the  bust  comes," 
was  the  response. 

"  When  the  bust  comes  in  St.  Paul,  you  mean  ? 
Very  true.  Your  Ryan's  Hotel  and  your  Grand 
Opera  House  would,  as  ruins,  be  picturesque,  which 
they  aren't  now.  Perhaps  we  Minncapolitans  will 
buy  up  the  old  stones  and  make  an  imitation  Kenil- 


AKEAK'LYG  OF  A  PLEASANT  SPELL.  107 

worth  out  of  them  for  our  beautiful  new  park. 
Ha,  ha  !  " 

"  Wait  five  years  and  your  big  flour  mills  will  give 
you  all  the  spare  stones  you  want  for  a  Kenihvorth 
and  a  Coliseum  to  boot — there  now  !  "  and  a  silvery 
peal  of  laughter  terminated  the  sentence. 

The  other  voice  was  about  to  retort,  when  Mel- 
drum  and  \Vadlo\v  interrupted  the  lively  conversa- 
tion by  appearing  upon  the  scene.  The  duplicate 
of  Amy  Robsart  had  turned  from  the  window  and 
faced  the  newcomers.  At  the  close  inspection 
now  afforded  them,  her  charms  fully  matched  those 
of  the  Countess  whom  Sir  Walter  drew.  By  her 
side  stood  another  lady  who  recalled  no  particular 
heroine  of  any  novel,  but  impressed  one  at  first 
sight  as  meriting  a  place  in  some  lively  work"  of  fic- 
tion. She  seemed  to  be  several  years  older  than 
the  fair  creature  at  the  window.  That  indefinable 
quality  which  everybody  knows  and  admires  as 
archness  crinkled  in  her  light,  curly  hair,  pouted  in 
her  full  red  lips,  asserted  itself  somewhat  auda- 
ciously in  her  piquant  nose,  .and  welled  out  from 
two  deep  dimples  in  her  rosy  checks.  Her  neck 
was  not  swan-like,  but  yet  a  manly  arm  would  have 
found  room  enough  for  itself  there.  Worshipers  at 
the  shrine  of  willowyness  might  have  criticised  the 
generosity  of  some  of  this  lady's  outlines.  But 
when  informed  that  she  was  a  widow,  they  would, 


108  THE   ENCHANTED. 

it  may  be  trusted,  have  been  swift  to  confess  that  a 
reasonable  amplitude  of  person  is  not  unbecoming 
to  one  who  has  no  longer  a  marital  prop  to  lean 
upon  and  twine  about.  This  substantial  creature 
was  owner  of  the  voice  which  had  been  summarily 
hushed  by  the  incoming  of  two  strangers;  but  it 
made  itself  heard,  without  a  moment's  hesitation, 
when  the  speaker  marked,  at  a  single  glance,  their 
nationality. 

"  I'll  leave  it  to  you,  now.  Isn't  Minneapolis 
more  of  a  city,  every  way,  than  St.  Paul?  " 

She  plumped  this  question  so  naturally  and  off- 
handedly at  Melclrum  that  he  was  no  more  taken 
aback  by  it  than  if  she  had  asked  him  the  time  of 
day.  Her  face  was  full  of  archness  and  roguery,  as 
she  waited  for  his  answer. 

Melclrum  knew  all  that  the  strange  question  im- 
plied. He  was  well  aware  that  the  aversion  between 
young  rival  American  cities  increases  in  geometrical 
ratio  to  their  nearness,  and  reaches  its  utmost  inten- 
sity in  the  case  of  St.  Paul  and  Minneapolis,  which 
are  contiguous.  They  are  called  the  Twins,  and 
have  quite  naturally  fought  from  the  cradle  upward. 
Meldrum  had  never  visited  cither  city,  and  could 
honestly  plead  absolute  ignorance  as  a  bar  to  any 
response.  To  oblige  the  possessor  of  all  that  arch- 
ness, he  would  gladly  have  said  "  Yes,"  but  for  the 
presence  of  St.  Paul's  bewitching  representative, 


BREAKING  OF  A  PLEASANT  SPELL.  109 

who  fastened  her  soft  brown  eyes  on  him,  in  mute 
appeal.  Out  of  his  perplexity  he  soon  found  an  es- 
cape by  luckily  recalling  some  sentences  he  had 
once  read  in  the  "jewing  advertisement  of  a  trunk 

o  o 

railway  line,  with  termini  both  in  St.  Paul  and  Min- 
neapolis. 

"  They  are  both  Queens  in  their  own  right,"  said 
Meldrtim,  falling  back  on  his  memory  ;  "  the  pride 
and  the  glory  of  the  new  Northwest — the — "  here 
he  broke  down,  and  then  happily  recovered  himself 
with  the  hackneyed  line  slightly  amended  for  the 
occasion — "The  tourist  could  be  happy  with  either, 
were  t'other  dear  charmer  away,"  a  quotation  not 
wholly  misplaced,  if  stretched  to  apply  also  to  his 
two  lovely  compatriots  of  the  moment  in  Mervyn's 
tower. 

"Judiciously  neutral?  I  see,"  said  the  merry 
lady,  her  eyebrows  arching  in  visible  token  of  the 
spirit  that  possessed  her.  "And  you,  sir,  what  do 
you  say?"  she  continued,  turning  to  Wadlow,  who, 
lawyer-like,  had  anticipated  the  attack  and  prepared 
himself  for  it. 

"  I  think  that  Mr.  St.  Paul  and  Miss  Minneapolis 
are  in  the  way  of  making  a  happy  match.  They 
have  that  little  aversion  which  Mrs.  Malaprop  recom- 
mends as  the  best  thing  to  begin  with.  As  a  friend 
of  both  parties,  I — " 

"Non-committal,  too,"  interrupted  the  vivacious 


no  THE   EXCHAXTED. 

lady.  "  Well,  Mancly,  we  shall  have  to  fight  out 
our  little  differences  alone.  Ha,  ha?" 

Meldrum  and  Wadlow  bowed  in  token  of  their 
cheerful  acquiescence. 

"Shall  we  call  a  half  hour  truce  now,  Carrie?" 

"As  you  please,  dear,"  was  the  reply.  "lint  I 
shan't  soon  forget  that  shot  at  my  flour  mills." 

"  It  was  fired  in  defense  of  my  Opera  House — tit 
for  tat — you  know." 

Arch  ladies  are  expected  to  be  volatile  ;  and  the 
subject  of  conversation  was  instantly  changed  by 
the  one  called  "  Carrie." 

"  I've  no  patience  with  that  horrid  Leicester,"  she- 
cried,  with  mirth  in  every  tone,  leaving  her  male 
hearers  in  doubt  whether  she  was  serious  or  joking. 
"I  was  looking  through  the  novel  again  this  morning. 
I  do  so  much  want  to  see  the  exact  spot  where  the 
Queen  exposed  and  humiliated  that  heartless  vil- 
lain," and  fun  irradiated  her  face  as  she  spoke. 
"Isn't  it  somewhere  out  here?"  She  pointed  to- 
ward the  Pleasance. 

Flib  saw  a  practical  opening  for  his  services.  As 
he  stepped  forward,  the  younger  lady  stood  aside, 
and  the  dwarf  indicated  with  outstretched  hand  the 
place  assigned  by  Sir  Walter  to  that  memorable 
transaction. 

"I  must  have  just  one  good  long  look  at  it,"  and 
the  arch  lady  stared  protractedly  at  the  spot.  Her 


BREAKING  OF  A    PLEASANT  SPELL.  ill 

friend  shared  in  her  eager  curiosity,  but  was  more 
serious  and  pensive  of  demeanor. 

"The  Queen  ought  to  have  cut  off  his  head  when 
he  was  kneeling  there — the  double  traitor — Ha, 
ha  !  " 

"  Why,-  Carrie  !  "  in  a  tone  of  mild  remonstrance. 

"  If  I  had  been  in  her  place  I  would  have  bor- 
rowed a  sword  from  Raleigh, — of  course  the  Queen 
didn't  wear  one, — and  done  it  in  a  flash, — like  that!" 
She  saucily  snapped  a  thumb  and  finger  to  illustrate 
the  swiftness  of  the  supposed  decapitation. 

"  But  the  Queen  hadn't  the  heart  to  do  it.  She 
loved  Leicester  as  much  as  Amy  Robsart  did." 

"  All  the  more  reason  why  she  should  have  chop- 
ped his  head  off.  It  would  have  punished  Leicester 
for  his  perfidy  to  herself.  It  would  have  avenged 
Amy  Robsart  for  his  brutality.  lie  would  not  have 
lived  to  cause  her  death  by  an  accomplice." 

"  But  Amy  herself  would  still  have  died  of  a 
broken  heart,  for  you  know  how  she  idolized  him. 
And  the  Queen,  too,  would  have  pined  away  with 
grief  and  remorse  if  she  had  taken  his  life  with  her 
own  hand." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  was  the  reply,  with  intermittent 
laughter  ;  "  and  I  should  have  had  no  pity  for  their 
fate.  The  idea  of  two  women  making  such  fools  of 
themselves  for  any  one  man."  The  absurdity  of 
the  conception  convulsed  the  well-shaped  figure. 


H2  THE   ENCHANTED. 

"  What  do  you  say  now?"  and  she  turned  quickly 
to  Meldrum. 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  pass  judgment  upon  those 
ladies.  But,  as  to  Leicester,  he  deserved  no  mercy 
from  any  one — least  of  all  from  the  Queen  who  had 
loaded  him  with  favors.  History  would  have  ap- 
plauded her  if  she  had  killed  him  in  that  blazing 
moment  of  righteous  indignation." 

"It  is  a  comfort  to  think  that  the  rascal  was  poi- 
soned by  his  second  wife,"  added  Wadlow. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  the  laugh- 
ing lady.  "You  men  are  so  apt  to  stand  up  for  one 
another  through  thick  and  thin,  against  the  women 
you  wrong." 

They  smiled  and  shrugged  their  shoulders  in  dep- 
recation of  the  charge,  and  each  was  about  to  say 
something,  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  up  the  ball  of 
conversation,  when  "  Carrie  "  (for  so  she  may  be  pro- 
visionally called)  glanced  at  a  little  jeweled  watch 
which  was  conspicuously  stuck  in  her  waist  belt. 
"  Dear  me — it's  three  o'clock,  and  we  must  be  off." 

"Without  delay,"  added  '  Mandy.' 

Both  stepped  lightly  toward  the  dark  spiral  stair- 
case. The  gentlemen  removed  their  hats  as  the 
ladies  disappeared  from  view,  inclining  their  heads 
in  recognition  of  the  courtesy.  It  seemed  an 
abrupt  and  stiff  termination  of  a  chat  singularly  free 
and  unconventional.  But  Meldrum  and  Wadlow 


BREAKING  OF  A  PLEASANT  SPELL.  1 13 

:ncw  their  countrywomen  too  well  to  be  surprised. 
They  were  perfectly  aware  that  American  ladies  are 
idepts  in  the  difficult  art  of  discouraging  presump- 
:ion  founded  upon  their  kind-heartedness  and  affa- 
bility. Nothing  in  what  had  happened  warranted 
them  in  thinking  that  the  same  ladies  would  conde- 
scend to  recognize  them  at  any  subsequent  meeting 
which  the  Fates  might  provide.  Their  departure 
from  the  gloomy  chamber, — or  cell  it  might  be  more 
fitly  termed — was  like  the  retirement  of  sunshine, 
so  truly  had  they  irradiated  it  with  youth  and 
beauty.  But  the  missing  brightness,  in  Wadlow's 
opinion,  belonged  to  the  "Mandy  "  whose  surname 
he  would  have  given  something  to  know  ;  while  Mel- 
drum  thought  only  of  the  archness  that  exhaled 
incessantly  from  the  "Carrie"-—  Carrie  what? 

Both  gentlemen  thrust  their  heads  out  of  the 
deep  embrasure,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  scrutiniz- 
ing objects  beneath,  but  really  to  see  the  ladies 
as  they  left  the  grounds.  Their  wish  was  grat- 
ified. A  minute  later  an  open  landau,  which  had 
been  standing  at  the  main  entrance,  received  the 
fair  strangers.  A  person  looking  like  a  maid- 
in-waiting,  and  bearing  shawls,  seated  herself  on 
the  back  seat,  and  another  person  whose  mana- 
gerial deportment  proclaimed  him  courier,  depos- 
ited himself  alongside  of  the  coachman,  and  the 
vehicle  rolled  away. 


H4  THE  ENCHANTED. 

Having  seen  all  of  Kenihvorth  that  they  de- 
sired, Meldrum,  in  his  capacity  of  paymaster,  be- 
stowed a  largess  on  Flib,  and  then  they  sauntered 
back  to  the  inn  where  they  had  lunched.  As 
they  approached  it  they  saw  the  open  landau 
drawn  up  before  the  door.  Servants  were  stowing 
away  hand  luggage  in  the  roomy  interior  and 
under  the  coachman's  seat.  This  was  done  with 
great  rapidity  and,  when  completed,  the  carriage 
dashed  off  again. 

Here,  then,  it  was  possible  to  find  out  the  names 
and  even  the  destination  of  the  fair  unknowns. 
And  within  five  minutes  Meldrum  had  plied  his 
shillings  with  such  effect  that  he  discovered  the 
arch  lady's  name  to  be  Mrs.  Josiah  J.  (ireatficld, 
and  that  her  companion  was  a  Miss  Robison, 
and  that  they  were  destined  to  Coventry.  It  re- 
quired the  co-operation  of  several  postboys  and 
waiters  to  piece  out  the  scanty  facts.  Among 
them  they  had  observed  the  cards  and  tags  at- 
tached to  the  bags  and  parcels  — the  absence  of 
a  register  in  the  English  inns  not  giving  the  in- 
formation so  easily  obtainable  at  American  hotels. 

"Mrs.  Josiah  J.  Grcatfield  !  Where,  oh  where 
have  I  heard  that  name  ?  "  and  Meldrum  knit 
his  brows  with  much  earnestness,  and  then  tapped 
them  as  if  to  dislodge  a  reminiscence  which 
was  accidentally  obstructed  there.  "  Ah  !  I  have 


BREAKING  OF  A  PLEASANT  SPELL.  115 

*;  now.  She  is  the  rich  widow  of  the  great 
Minneapolis  mill  owner — 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  said  Wadlow — "  proprietor 
>f  the  Balloon  brand  of  family  flour.  He  left  her 
our  stone  mills,  with  a  daily  capacity  of  five 
;housand  barrels  and  clear  profits  of  a  million  a 
/ear.  I  was  reading  the  figures  in  an  American 
paper  the  other  day." 

"  Now  I  recall  everything,"  broke  in  Meldrum. 
"  As  a  rich  American  widow,  she  has  been 
hounded  by  beggarly  counts  and  barons  in  all  the 
Continental  capitals.  Her  name  has  been  men- 
tioned in  connection  with  a  bankrupt  English 
duke." 

"  At  all  events,  she  is  quite  able  to  take  care  of 
herself,"  suggested  Wadlow. 

"  Undoubtedly  ;  but  'tis  a  pity  she  should  be 
bothered  so  by  mere  adventurers  and  fortune 
hunters." 

"  Would  you  like  to  save  her  from  them  by 
marrying  her  yourself  ?  "  asked  his  friend,  playfully. 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  was  the  laughing  response  of 
the  inveterate  bachelor.  "  I  speak  only  as  a  Pro- 
tectionist, favoring  a  Home  Market  for  American 
widows  and  their  fortunes." 

"Good  gracious!"  exclaimed  Wadlow.  "I've 
made  a  remark-able  discovery,  too.  The  other  lady 
is  a  Miss  Robison,  you  know.  Prefix  Amanda 


Ii6  THE   F.XCIfAXTED. 

(which  is  long  for  Mancly)  to  that,  and  \vhat  do  we 
have  ?  " 

"  Why,  Amanda  Robison,  to  be  sure.  What 
else  could  it  be  ?  " 

"  A  great  deal  more,"  continued  Wadlo\v,  with 
enthusiasm.  "We  then  have  a  name  strangely  sug- 
gestive of  Amy  Robsart.  What  with  the  brown 
hair  and  brown  eyes,  the  creamy  complexion,  the 
slender  curving  neck  and  the  green  dress — is  not  the 
coincidence  marvelous  ?  Felix,  my  boy,  we  have 
seen  to-day  the  heroine  of  Kenilworth." 

"  And,  perhaps,  of  a  new  story  of  real  life',  with 
Mr.  Madison  Wadlow  as  the  hero,  ending  more 
happily,  let  us  hope,  than  the  old  one." 

Wadlow  laughed  at  the  humor  of  the  notion — his 
prepossessions  for  bachelorhood  being  almost  as  in- 
vincible as  those  of  his  friend. 

Tennyson's  dainty  version  of  the  Godiva  legend 
had  caused  Coventry  to  be  booked  for  a  visit  by  the 
gentlemen,  and  the  chance  of  meeting  there  Mrs. 
Josiah  J.  Grcatficld  and  Miss  Amanda  Robison  by 
no  means  tended  to  lessen  the  satisfaction  with 
which  they  looked  forward  to  their  departure  for 
that  place  by  an  early  train  next  morning. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WITH  TENNYSON  AT  COVENTRY. 

"  Is  infamous  too  strong  an  adjective  to  apply  to 
it?  Or  shall  I  merely  say  disgraceful?" 

The  speaker  was  a  middle-aged,  wiry,  nervous 
little  man,  whose  face  quivered  with  excitement. 

lie  addressed  his  questions  to  Meldrum  and 
Wadlow,  who  had  been  admiringly  studying  from 
various  points  of  view  the  beautiful  equestrian 
statue  of  Godiva  in  the  Guildhall  of  Coventry. 
They  had  been  so  deeply  absorbed  in  the  contem- 
plation of  that  pleasing  work  of  art,  that  they  had 
not  observed  the  figure  creeping  up  stealthily 
behind  them,  and  now  seizing  upon  the  occasion  to 
speak. 

Thus  accosted,  they  turned  sharply  and  faced,  as 
they  supposed,  a  man  who  was  urging  his  passionate 
protest  against  the  nude  in  Art. 

"  To  me,"  replied  Meldrum,  smiling  at  the  fierce- 
ness of  the  questioner,  "  it  seems  the  embodiment 
of  delicacy  and  purity." 

"  Tennyson's  very  words,  '  clothed  on  with 
chastity,'  were  in  my  mind  as  you  spoke,"  added 

117 


Ii8  THE  EXCHAXTED. 

Wadlow,  who  shared  in  the  amusement  of  his 
friend. 

"  Good  heavens  !     What  do  you  take  me  for  ?  " 

The  word  "  crank  "  occurred  to  both  of  them  ;  but, 
if  they  had  uttered  it,  the  epithet  would  have  been 
lost  in  the  sound  of  the  stranger's  own  voice,  for 
without  pausing  for  an  answer,  he  declared  in 
scornful  accents : 

"  I  am  no  miserable  canting  purist.  For  aught  I 
care  they  might  fill  this  hall  with  the  statues  of  all 
the  heathen  goddesses  ever  dug  up  !  " 

"Then  what  is  the  matter?"  asked  Meldrum. 

"What  is  the  matter?  Don't  you  understand?" 
with  a  pitying  smile  at  their  obtuseness. 

The  friends  good-naturedly  shook  their  heads. 

"  That  statue  perpetuates  a  lie!"  and  he  darted 
a  look  at  it  which  the  speaker  evidently  wished 
were  a  thunderbolt,  that  the  odious  marble  might 
be  shivered  to  atoms. 

"  Is  that  all?  "  asked  Mr.  Wadlow,  innocently. 

'"Is  that  all?'  Did  I  hear  aright?"  And  be- 
fore giving  Wadlow  time  to  remark  that  his  cars 
had  not  deceived  him,  the  heated  stranger  con- 
tinued his  passionate  interrogations  without  a  mo- 
ment's pause  for  any  reply. 

"Are  men  forever  to  be  the  dupes  of  myth- 
makers?  Are  the  noblest  names  to  be  handed 
down  to  eternal  infamy?  Is  Lcofric,  Earl  of  Mur- 


WITH   TENNYSON  AT  COVENTRY.  119 

cia,  to  remain  the  object  of  execration  and  ridicule 
to  the  end  of  time  because  some  lying  fellow,  two 
centuries  after  his  death,  accused  him  of  an  act  of 
heartless  and  incredible  cruelty  to  his  wife?" 

"A  descendant  of  the  Earl,  I  presume,"  said  Mel- 
drum,  pulling  as  serious  a  face  as  was  possible. 

If  the  stranger  had  not  been  a  deadly  earnest 
person,  constitutionally  incapable  of  making  or 
taking  a  joke,  he  would  have  questioned  the  sin- 
cerity of  this  remark.  But  he  accepted  it  in  good 
faith. 

"  No.  I  am  only  a  champion  of  historical  truth. 
I  am  here  in  a  spirit  of  pure  disinterestedness  to 
vindicate  the  blackened  character  of  one  of  the  best 
Englishmen  of  the  eleventh  century." 

"  Rehabilitating  you  call  it,  I  think,"  said  Wad- 
low.  "  We  call  it  whitewashing  in  America.  At 
different  times  the  operation  has  been  applied,  I  re- 
member, to  Judas  Iscariot,  Richard  the  Third,  and 
Lucrecia  Borgia.  But  what  proof  have  you  that 
the  grim  earl  of  Tennyson's  poem  did  not  require 
his  wife  to  ride  naked  through  the  town  as  a  condi- 
tion of  repealing  a  tax  under  which  his  people  were 
starving  to  death?  I  am  a  lawyer,  you  see." 

The  stranger  cooled  down  a  little.  "Well,"  he 
said,  with  some  hesitation,  "  no  proof  as  yet  to  go 
before  a  stupid  jury  with.  But  I  hope  to  find  it 
here  on  the  ground  among  the  worm-eaten  and 


I2O 

illegible  parchments  that  may  still  be  preserved  in 
the  archives  of  this  Guildhall.  I  am  an  expert  in 
the  art  of  piecing  together  and  deciphering  such 
fragmentary  records.  But  if  I  cannot  secure  legal 
evidence  to  refute  the  preposterous  legend,  the 
moral  evidence  yet  remains  overwhelming  to  every 
unprejudiced  mind." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Meldrum,  not  yet  bored  to 
the  last  point  of  endurance. 

"For  one  thing,  Leofric,  Earl  of  Murcia,  founded 
a  great  monastery.  That  is  a  fact  resting  on  au- 
thority older  than  the  ridiculous  myth  we  are  dis- 
cussing. Now  I  maintain  that  a  man  who  is  Chris- 
tian enough  to  establish  a  monastery  would  not  tax 
his  people  till  they  starved  to  death  ;  still  less 
would  he  make  his  wife  ride  through  the  streets  in 
the  condition  you  see  there,"  pointing  to  the  lovely 
simulacrum. 

"  But  bad  men  have  founded  monasteries,"  inter- 
rupted \Vadlow.  "  They  have  done  it  on  their 
deathbeds  to  expiate  the  crimes  of  a  life-time." 

"Waive  that  point  then  for  the  present,"  said  the 
stranger.  "  Look  at  the  intrinsic  incredibility  of 
the  fable." 

"  You  refer,  of  course,  to  the  blindness  that  was 
visited  upon  Peeping  Tom,"  remarked  Meldrum. 

"  Yes  ;  that  implies  the  intervention  of  a  super- 
natural power,  with  no  adequate  occasion  for  it, 


WITH   TENNYSON  AT  COVENTRY.  121 

which  I  naturally  deny.  But  I  was  not  thinking 
of  that,"  pursued  the  fierce  little  man,  with  the 
faintest  semblance  of  a  smile,  and  he  cocked 
his  eye  knowingly. 

"Of  what,  then?" 

"Well,  you  know  human  nature  (in  a  tone  as 
near  levity  as  his  chronic  grimncss  would  per- 
mit). Take  my  word  for  it.  There  were  fifty 
Peeping  Toms  if  there  was  one  of  'em.  Why 
was  only  one  of  the  fifty  struck  blind,  eh?  'If 
you  would  have  your  tale  seem  true,  keep 
probability  in  view,'  says  the  poet." 

Meldrum  and  Wadlow  laughed  at  the  novelty  of 
the  argument,  the  force  of  which  they  were  not 
prepared  to  deny. 

"You  can't  crack  that  nut  anyhow.  Fahns  in 
uno,  falsus  in  omnibus,  you  know.  And  so  the 
myth  goes  to  pieces." 

The  friends  vouchsafing  no  response,  because 
they  were  desirous  of  closing  the  conversation, 
the  champion  of  the  late  Leofric  of  pious  memory 
took  his  departure  precipitately  with  a  victorious 
and  elated  air. 

Left  to  themselves,  Meldrum  and  Wadlow  re- 
sumed their  inspection  of  the  statuary  with  un- 
abated interest.  The  casual  observer  (but  there 
was  none  now  that  the  nervous  little  man  had 
fled  the  scene)  would  have  supposed  them  to 


122  777/s   ENCHANTED. 

be  either  sculptors  or  art  critics  or  merchandize 
appraisers,  so  determined  did  they  seem  to  get  at 
the  precise  value  of  the  Godiva,  either  in  art 
or  money.  Whereas,  they  were  only  striving  to 
fix  the  peerless  image  so  tenaciously  in  their  minds 
that  they  would  be  able  to  call  it  up  at  will  at  high 
noon  in  the  crowded  streets  of  modern  Coventry. 

They  had  visited  the  city  of  the  "  three  tall 
spires  "  in  order  to  subject  themselves  anew  to  the 
spell  of  the  enchanter  Tennyson,  who  had  shaped 
a  rough  legend  into  a  poem  of  the  most  delicate 
and  refined  beauty,  every  line  of  which  is  a 
separate  picture.  As  at  Kenilworth,  now  at  Coven- 
try, they  sought  to  recreate  the  spectacle,  the  fame 
of  which  had  been  identified  with  the  place  by  a 
magician  in  words. 

Emerging  upon  the  thronged  thoroughfares,  they 
found  the  environments  unfavorable  for  the  prose- 
cution of  the  work.  The  number  of  people  scurry- 
ing to  and  fro  were  a  minor  cause  of  disturbance. 
What  chiefly  hindered  the  free  play  of  their  fancy 
was  the  extremely  modern  architecture  of  the 
buildings.  They  desired  a  projecting  story,  or  a 
gable,  or  a  lozenge-shaped  window,  or  a  gargoyle 
upon  and  about  which  the  ivy  of  their  imagin- 
ation might  throw  a  tendril.  Practiced  as  they 
were  in  the  art  of  making  believe,  the  feat  some- 
times required  a  little  extraneous  assistance. 


IV I  Til    TENNYSON  AT  COVENTRY.  123 

"  Here's  the  street  we  want,"  said  Meldrum, 
preceding  his  friend  into  a  narrow  way  where  there 
were  houses  many  centuries  old,  with  white  plas- 
tered bodies  and  black  ribs,  looking  as  if  they  had 
been  built  all  right  and  then  turned  inside  out, 
top-heavy,  leaning  toward  one  another  from  oppo- 
site side-walks,  as  if  about  to  fall  into  the  middle 
of  the  road  in  a  mutual  paralytic  embrace.  The 
little  old  windows  of  these  little  old  houses 
were  like  eyes  bleary  and  dim  with  age,  but 
still  trying  to  pry  into  the  secrets  of  the  other 
side  of  the  street.  As  a  spiritualist  would  say, 
the  conditions  were  now  more  favorable.  One 
could  believe,  in  fault  of  any  testimony  to  the 
contrary,  that  some  of  those  "  fantastic  gables" 
might  have  "  stared "  at  the  sweet  victim  of 
Leofric's  cruel  jest,  as  she  rode  by,  and  that 
there  were  the  same  "  wide-mouthed  heads  upon 
the  spout  "  which  "  had  cunning  eyes  to  see  " 
on  that  day  memorable  in  the  long  annals  of 
woman's  exhaustless  pity  and  goodness.  The 
story  ought  to  be  true,  if  it  is  not,  so  ade- 
quately does  it  tell  of  her  divine  capacity  for 
suffering  when  her  sympathy  is  touched. 

If  heads  had  not  been  protruded  from  windows,  if 
coatless  apprentices  had  not  been  idling  in  door- 
ways, if  people  had  not  been  moving  thickly  to  and 
fro  on  business  or  pleasure,  the  task  which  the 


124  T1IJ-.    ENCHANTED. 

friends  had  proposed  to  themselves  might,  as  has 
been  intimated,  have  been  more  easily  performed. 
But  so  trained  had  they  become  in  the  art  of  making 
inward  conceptions  palpable  to  the  outward  vision, 
so  immersed  were  they  in  the  realization  of  the 
ideal,  that  they  soon  succeeded  in  clearing  the 
narrow  street  of  all  impediments  to  their  day-dreams. 
They  trod  it  alone,  the  palfrey  with  its  precious 
load  of  charms  all  unveiled  stepping  by  their  side 
with  noiseless  footfalls.  The  horse,  being  necessa- 
rily patterned  after  the  marble  in  Guildhall,  was 
snow-white;  and  so,  for  the  same  reason,  was  the 
rider.  To  have  warmed  her  into  flesh  and  blood  by 
the  glow  of  a  lambent  imagination  would  have  been 
more  satisfactory.  But  the  conditions  under  which 
the  spectacle  was  conjured  up  would  not  allow  of 
this  improvement  on  the  model.  Its  spotless  purity 
seemed  more  consonant  with  the  lofty  conception 
of  the  poet  than  if  it  had  been  suffused  with  nature's 
own  life-tints  borrowed  from  the  palette  of  a  Ra- 
phael. And  then,  if  the  friends  had  been  privileged 
to  break  away  from  their  restrictions  and  to  see 
Godiva  as  that  "one  low  churl  compact  of  thankless 
earth"  saw  her,  in  her  own  beauty  unadorned,  thereby 
condemning  himself  to  be  not  only  stone  blind,  but 
"the  fatal  by-word  of  all  years  to  come,"  they  would 
have  felt  like  Peeping  Toms  themselves,  and  blushed 
at  their  own  treachery  and  baseness.  So  intent 


IV I  Til    TENNYSON  AT  CO  I' EN  TRY.  125 

wore  they  in  the  accomplishment  of  their  work,  at 
once  scientific  and  pleasurable,  that  they  did  not 
remark  how  curiously  they  were  scrutinized  by  the 
passers-by,  and  were  unroused  from  their  reveries 
even  by  the  jostle  of  passing  elbows.  If  the  good 
people  of  Coventry  who  saw  those  singular 
strangers,  gazing  without  apparent  motive  into 
the  middle  of  the  street  at  right  angles  to  them- 
selves, could  have  seen  what  they  saw,  they  would 
have  deemed  the  sight  much  superior  to  the  elabo- 
rate pageant  of  their  yearly  celebration  of  the  city's 
ancient  legend  with  a  circus  rider  from  London  to 
personate  the  modest  and  devoted  Godiva. 

That  rousing  shock  which  the  worthy  burghers  of 
Coventry  could  not  give  the  two  dreamers  from 
America,  was  supplied  sharply  enough  by  the 
modern  houses  lining  both  sides  of  a  wide  street 
into  which  they  presently  came.  In  the  presence 
of  fronts,  all  undeniably  nineteenth  century,  the 
lovely  phantom  of  the  eleventh  could  not  long  sur- 
vive. Presto!  it  vanished,  and  Meldrum  and  Wad- 
low  saw  in  its  stead  the  vulgar  drays  and  butcher 
carts  of  the  period. 

Wrapped  in  their  self-communings  they  had  not 
exchanged  a  word  till  now,  when  they  mutually  ex- 
pressed their  contentment  with  the  success  of  a 
trial  about  which,  owing  to  its  peculiar  difficulties, 
they  had  entertained  some  misgivings. 


126  THE   EXL'IIANTED. 

The  dear  Godiva  gone,  it  was  not  surprising  that 
the  charms  of  women  in  general  should  remain  for 
a  time  uppermost  in  their  thoughts,  or  that  their 
meditations  should  be  associated  with  tender  re- 
membrances of  Mrs.  Josiah  J.  Greatfield  and  Miss 
Amanda  Robison. 

"Now  for  the  bridge,  Madison,"  said  Meldrum, 
"  Tennyson's  own  point  of  view,  you  know." 

"  And  the  likeliest  place  for  meeting  the  sprightly 
widow  and  Amy — I  mean  Miss  Robison,"  replied 
Wadlow,  supplementing  the  thought  which  he  well 
knew  was  seething  under  his  comrade's  Derby  hat. 

Meldrum  laughed  gently.  "  True.  No  tourist 
who  comes  to  Coventry  misses  the  bridge.  By  hang- 
ing round  it  with  the  'grooms  and  porters'  as  Ten- 
nyson did,  your  wish  may  be  gratified." 

"  And  yours,  Felix,  you  can't  deny  it,"  said 
Wadlow,  playfully. 


CHAPTER    X. 

MRS.  GREATFIELI/S  VIEWS  ABOUT  LADY  GODIVA  AND 
OTHER  MATTERS. 

FOR  use  in  landscape  painting  and  poetry,  a 
bridge  should  be,  if  possible,  a  single  graceful  arch. 
Make  this  arch  high  and  crowning  ;  twine  its  but- 
tresses with  ivy;  glass  it  in  a  slow  running  stream, 
whose  banks  are  fringed  with  grasses  and  wild  flow- 
ers and  overhung  with  trailing  willows,  and  nor  pen 
nor  brush  can  find  in  this  wide  world  a  fairer  object 
for  its  exercise.  Until  one  has  stood  on  the  bridge 
near  the  railway  station  at  Coventry,  he  cannot  im- 
agine how  far  it  is  possible  for  such  an  object  to 
lack  every  element  of  picturesqueness  which  should 
adhere  by  right  to  a  structure  of  the  class.  It  is  the 
barest  apology  for  a  viaduct  spanning,  not  a  river, 
nor  a  ravine,  but  only  a  shinin'g  gridiron  of  tracks 
along  which  trains  arc  incessantly  darting  and  belch- 
ing smoke  and  soot  into  the  faces  of  those  who  lean 
over  its  stony  parapets.  If  wrought  of  iron  with  a 
slight  rise  to  the  center,  it  might,  despite  modern- 
ness,  be  not  wholly  devoid  of  that  beauty  for  which 
one  looks  in  a  bridge  that  has  the  honor  of  being 

127 


128  Till-:  ENCHANTED. 


embalmed  in  a  poem  by  Tennyson.  But  it  is  as  flat, 
formless,  ugly,  and  strictly  useful  a  work  as  pinching 
economy  could  provide,  for  the  sole  ends  of  clearing 
the  stacks  of  the  locomotives  and  permitting  vet 
hides  to  cross  it  in  safety.  Tennyson  may  count  it 
among  the  triumphs  of  his  versatile  genius  that  his 
"Godiva"  draws  pilgrims  every  day  to  the  height 
of  that  hideous  utility,  not  to  kill  time  with  the 
lounging  grooms  and  porters,  but  to  murmur  to  the 
circumambient  air  the  old  haunting  lines. 

Meldrum  and  Wadlow  were  thinking  less  of  dead 
and  gone   Godivas  than  of   draped  living   loveliness 
as  they  hung  on  the  bridge  alone,  that  sunny  after- 
noon.    So  intently   were   they  engaged    in   reviving 
the  latent  mental  images  of  the  countrywomen  they 
had  met  at  Kenilworth  that  they  at  first  suspected 
the  genuineness  of  those  ladies,  when  they  actually 
appeared  descending  from    a  carriage  at  the  station 
and   slowly    walking    up   the    slope  to    the    bridge. 
They  rubbed  their  eyes  to  assure    themselves  that 
those  two  symmetrical  forms  and   handsome   faces 
were   not   as  unsubstantial   as   the   lovely   countess 
herself  from  whom  they  had  so  lately  parted.     No  ! 
on  a  second  glance,  the  vitality  of   the  persons  ap- 
proaching was  not  to  be   mistaken.     That   solidity, 
that    exuberance    of  the   widow,  that   fragility  and 
springiness  of  the  maiden,  were  no  mere  figments  of 
the  brain.     And    there    was  no  possible    room    for 


MXS.    GREATFIELD'S  VIEWS.  129 

doubt,  when  a  gleam  of  recognition  brightened  the 
eyes  and  flushed  the  cheeks  of  both  ladies,  as  their 
upward  glance  met  that  of  the  gallant  fellows,  who 
removed  their  hats  and  bowed  respectfully,  advanc- 
ing at  the  same  time  to  greet  the  newcomers. 

*_>  o 

The  widow  bore  the  full  sunlight  of  a  rare  English 
day  very  well.  The  half-gloom  of  Mervyn's  tower 
is  favorable  to  dubious  complexions,  and  those  ex- 
perts in  the  texture  of  ladies'  cheeks  who  had  seen 
her  the  day  before  in  that  partial  revelation  were 
prepared  to  note  a  shade  of  sallowness  detracting 
from  the  healthy  purity  of  the  flesh  tones  they  had 
admired  so  much.  Uncreased,  a  delicate  confusion 
of  red  and  white,  the  face  that  beamed  upon  them 
proclaimed  the  underside  of  thirty.  In  her  large 
blue  eyes  there  was  a  baby  simplicity,  well  calcu- 
lated to  beguile  the  unwary.  The  light  short  ten- 
drils clustering  over  her  round  forehead  lent  her  the 
appearance  of  a  bright,  handsome  boy,  masquerading 
in  female  attire,  than  which  nothing  is  more  roguish 
and  effective — and  the  widow  knew  it. 

That  day  she  was  the  incarnation  of  archness  and 
raillery,  and  the  two  friends  saw  some  fun  before 
them.  Miss  Amanda  Robison,  while  perfectly 
charming,  did  not  entirely  fill  the  part  of  Amy 
Robsart  at  this  second  meeting.  It  was  not  so 
much  that  her  green  dress  had  been  exchanged  for 
a  brown,  which  matched  her  hair  and  eyes,  as  that 


13°  THE  EXCIIAXTED. 

her  age  seemed  to  have  been  raised  over  night  from 

o  o 

eighteen  to  twenty-one — two — three — four — or  five, 
— Meldrum  and  Wadlow  being  incompetent  to 
guess  which.  But  they  were  rather  pleased  than 
otherwise  to  supcradd  a  few  years  as  a  ripencr  of 
immaturity.  Eighteen  seems  too  young  for  a  hero- 
ine in  real  life,  and  one  may  honestly  doubt  if  the 
Countess  of  Leicester  could  have  shown  the  cour- 
age and  self-possession  with  which  she  is  credited 
at  that  age. 

The  widow  was  brimming  with  mischief. 
"Aren't  we  all  silly  to  climb  up  to  this  dirty  old 
bridge,  just  because  Tennyson  lugged  it  into  that 
poetry  about  Godiva.  Ha,  ha  !  " 

"It  is  sentiment,"  said  Meld  rum  ;  as  if  that  were 
an  all-sufficient  reason  for  the  foil}'.  Wadlow  cor- 
roborated the  opinion  with  a  nod  and  smile,  and  so 
did  Miss  Robison. 

"You  all  did  it  to  please  yourselves,  but  I  did  it 
to  please  her,"  and  the  widow  assumed  a  comic  air 
of  great  self-sacrifice.  "You'll  think  it  bad  taste,  I 
dare  say,  but  oh,  how  I  do  hate  that  Godiva  !  "  and 
she  confirmed  the  assertion  of  the  mortal  antipathy 
by  a  prolonged  giggle. 

"Why,  pray?"  asked  Meldrum. 

"  Why,  because  she  was  such  a  poor,  weak  little 
fool, — just  like  so  many  other  women  (and  the 
widow  knit  her  white  brow  very  prettily  to  imply 


AfJSS.   GREATFIELD'S  VIEWS.  13 1 

that  she  herself  was  a  creature  of  much  sterner 
stuff).  The  idea  of  riding  horseback  through  the 
streets  in  broad  daylight  as — as — she  did, — and  in 
this  raw  air  (the  widow  shivered  sympathetically  as 
she  spoke),  just  to  satisfy  the  whim  of  that  brute  of 
a  husband.  It's  horrible  !  " 

"  But  if  she  had  refused,"  said  Wad  low,  gently, 
"he  would  have  kept  on  the  tax  and  let  his  people 
starve." 

"  Not  if  she  had  had  a  true  woman's  spunk,"  re- 
torted the  widow.  "  Of  course,  being  a  bully,  he 
was  a  coward.  If  I'd  been  in  her  place  that  circus 
never  would  have  come  off.  I'd  have  forced  him 
to  repeal  the  tax  and  apologize  to  me  for  his  impu- 
dence." (She  enunciated  this  with  a  positiveness 
that  seemed  to  be  born  of  some  experience  in  defy- 
ing and  taming  just  such  brutes.) 

"How?"  asked  Meldrum,  curious  to  know  her 
method  of  subjugating  tyrants. 

"  By  going  home  to  my  mother.  That  never 
fails.  Ha,  ha!"  This  with  an  apparent  air  of 
conviction  as  if  based  upon  some  actual  test  in  her 
private  history. 

"True,  true.  I  think  he  would  have  come  after 
you  early  next  day, — I  mean  Godiva,  and  begged 
your — that  is  her — pardon  and  repealed  the  tax. 
But,  fond  as  he  was  of  his  dogs  and  hunting 
and  other  coarse  pleasures,  he  might  have  let 


I32  THE  ENCHANTED. 

her  go  and  doubled  the  tax  out  of  spite.  "What 
then?" 

''  What  then?"  exclaimed  the  widow.  "If  I  had 
been  fond  enough  of  the  people  here  to  do  what  that 
Godiva  did  —  ugh!  it  makes  me  creepy  to  think"  of  it 
(and  she  mechanically  hugged  herself  in  her  light 
traveling  shawl  as  if  for  warmth),  I'd  have  come  back 
from  my  mother's  on  the  si}-.  Then  I'd  have  taken 
refuge  with  some  faithful  old  retainer,  --the  old  re- 
tainers were  always  faithful  in  those  times, you  know, 
—I'd  have  disguised  myself  as  a  page  and  got  the 
free  run  of  the  castle.  Watching  my  chance,  I'd 
have  put  a  good  stiff  dose  of  poison  into  the  goblet 
which  he  quaffed,  ha,  ha  !  Then,  when  the  misera- 
ble wretch  was  dead,  I'd  have  thrown  off  my  dis- 
guise and  reigned  in  his  stead,"  and  the  widow 
nearly  choked  herself  with  laughing'. 

"  Carrie,  how  can  you  talk  in  that  dreadful  way. 
It  would  be  murder,"  said  Miss  Robison. 

"  With  every  respect  for  your  opinion,"  blandly 
interposed  Wadlow,  who  with  professional  instinct 
had  rapidly  sketched  out  a  good  legal  defense  for 
Godiva  in  the  supposititious  case,  "  had  she  been  my 
client,  we  could  have  made  it  out  emotional  in- 
sanity." 

"  Just  so,"  said  the  widow.  "  '  Served  him 
right  '  would  have  been  the  verdict  of  any  sensible 
jury." 


MAS.    GRE A  T FIELD'S  VIEWS.  133 

"  Would  you  have  had  no  remorse,  Carrie  ? " 
asked  her  companion,  reproachfully. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Why,  the  temperature  here 
must  be  below  sixty-five,  in  the  warmest  weather, 
too.  The  idea  of  making  a  poor  woman  ride  horse- 
back without  even  a  chest  protector,  a  day  like 
this,  for  example.  Poisoning  was  too  good  for  him. 
I  would  have  chopped  him  up  fine  with  a  hatchet 
afterward  and  gloried  in  the  deed.  Ha,  ha!" 
Here  the  widow  was  again  convulsed  with  merri- 
ment. 

Recovering  herself,  she  changed  the  subject  with 
her  usual  suddenness. 

"  What  they  most  want  in  Coventry,  now,  is  a 
first-class  fireproof  hotel,  with  an  elevator  and  all 
the  modern  improvements  like  the — " 

"Like  'The  Ryan,'  of  St.  Paul,"  interjected  Miss 
Robison,  mischievously.  "  But  then  it  is  twice  too 
large  for  a  place  like  this." 

"  Big  as  it  is,  you  could  put  it  inside  of  '  The 
West,'  of  Minneapolis,  and  you  know  it,  Mandy." 

"  I  remember  that  your  Minneapolis  Meteor  made 
that  absurd  statement,"  retorted  Miss  Robison,  a 
little  more  seriously,  for  they  were  broaching  a 
topic  which  divides  and  maddens  the  inhabitants  of 
the  twin  cities.  "  But  the  St.  Paul  Comet  showed 
up  the  figures  next  day.  Everybody  knows  that 
'The  Ryan'—" 


134  THE  ENCHANTED. 

Wadlow,  mindful  of  the  exciting  discussion  as  to 
the  comparative  claims  of  the  rival  cities,  which 
they  had  overheard  and  been  asked  to  participate 
in  the  previous  day,  deemed  it  politic  to  call  off  the 
fair  disputants  from  so  dangerous  a  theme.  There- 
fore, at  the  risk  of  being  thought  rude,  he  interfered 
with  the  remark:  "The  three  tall  spires  arc  seen 
to  great  advantage  from  this  point,  aren't  they''" 
(The  observation  was  particularly  addressed  to  Miss 
Robison.) 

"  Quite  so,"  replied  that  lady.  "That  one  (point- 
ing to  the  lofty  steeple  of  St.  Michaels)  must  be- 
almost  as  high  as  St.  Ethelfrida's  at  home." 

"  I  will  say,"  remarked  the  widow,  as  if  making  a 
concession  to  smooth  away  any  unpleasantness,  "  that 
Ethelfrida  is  a  great  credit  to  St.  1'aul.  I  suppose 
its  spire  is  not  twenty  feet  short  of  our  Holy 
Evangel's." 

"How  kind  of  you  Carrie,  really,"  replied  Miss 
Robison,  with  veiled  sarcasm  in  her  tone.  "  Per- 
haps you  will  next  allow  that  Ethelfrida  is  almost 
as  fashionable  as  the  Evangel." 

'•Yes,  I  would — for  peace,  dear." 

"  How    good    you    arc."     Then,    abandoning  the 

o  J  *3 

ironical   vein,  Miss  Robison    made   a   direct   thrust. 
"  You  don't  have  half   as  many  carriages  in    livery 
before  your  church  doors,  Sundays,  as  we  do." 
"Very  true,  if  you  count  those  your  people  hire 


MRS.    GREATFIELD'S  VIEWS.  135 

for  the  occasion,  ha,  ha!  By  the  way,  dear,  how 
much  salary  do  you  pay  Dr.  Butterwick?" 

"  Ten  thousand  a  year,"  returned  Miss  Robison, 
incautiously  stating  the  precise  sum  as  she  remem- 
bered it. 

"  We  give  our  rector  twelve — and  a  house  to  live 
in.  That  settles  it,  I  should  say;"  and  the  archest 
of  widows  curved  her  expressive  eyebrows  at 
her  male  auditors,  who  could  make  no  further  re- 
sponse than  to  show  their  teeth  in  a  fatuous  and 
helpless  way. 

In  sheer  desperation,  Meldrum  made  another  es- 
say to  divert  the  stream  of  talk  into  some  safer 
channel.  Grasping  at  the  first  idea  that  occurred 
to  him,  he  impulsively  remarked:  "Coventry  has 
very  much  to  interest  the  tourist,  but  it  lacks  one 
thing  besides  a  first-class  hotel."  He  was  about  to 
add  "a  castle,"  but  Mrs.  Greatfield  headed  him  off. 

"What  it  needs  is  a  flour  mill  built  of  stone  ten 
stories  high.  Thousands  of  people  come  to  Minne- 
apolis to  see  ours.  But  then,  poor  things,  they 
have  no  St.  Anthony's  Falls  here  for  the  water- 
power." 

The  bachelors  were  now  listening  greedily,  in 
hope  that  the  garrulous  little  widow  would  add  to 
their  scanty  stock  of  information  already  afforded 
by  the  press  as  to  her  colossal  fortune;  for  there  is 
something  about  an  enormously  rich  widow  to 


136  THE  ENCHANTED. 

which  no  man,  not  already  mated,  can  be  wholly 
indifferent.  It  is  impossible  for  such  a  man  to 
avoid  the  reflection  that  she  may  lose  all  her  prop- 
erty through  inexperience  and  blind  confidence, 
when  it  might  be  saved  for  her  by  a  second  hus- 
band in  the  capacity  of  a  hard-headed  adviser  and 
trusted  friend. 

But  any  disclosures  she  might  have  been  about 
to  make  of  her  pecuniary  affairs  were  excluded  by 
a  remark  from  Miss  Robison. 

"At  all  events,  Carrie,  Coventry  is  spared  an  ugly 
piece  of  architecture." 

"Not  as  ugly  as  your  Opera  House,"  retorted  the 
widow  gaily,  and  again  the  bachelors  were  all  atten- 
tion. For,  much  as  a  widow  with  highly  produc- 
tive flour  mills  might  appeal  to  their  manly  compas- 
sion, a  helpless  maiden  with  an  opera  house  on  her 
hands  became  an  object  of  even  greater  solicitude. 
But  it  was  decreed  that  no  further  light  should  be 
cast  on  this  matter  then  and  there,  for  the  stroke  of 
the  clock  reminded  Mrs.  Greatficld  that  the  North- 
ern express  was  due  in  five  minutes. 

"  Not  a  minute  to  lose  !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  with 
a  parting  inclination  of  the  head,  provokingly  dis- 
tant and  cold  when  contrasted  with  her  recent  affa- 
bility, the  widow7  faced  right  about  and  walked 
rapidly  toward  the  station,  followed  with  equal 
alacrity  by  Miss  Robison,  who  merely  maintained, 


MA'S.    GREATFIELD'S  VIEWS.  137 

:it  parting  with  her  fellow  countrymen,  the  same  re- 
serve she  had  hitherto  shown  them.  As  the  bach- 
elors looked  down  from  their  eminence  at  the  rail- 
way platform,  they  could  see  the  well-remembered 
courier  and  maid  standing  guard  over  a  heap  of 
traveling  bags  and  wraps,  so  that  there  was  no  valid 
excuse  for  running  after  the  ladies  to  proffer  their 
services.  Till  the  gloomy  station  swallowed  them 
up,  they  kept  their  backs  obdurately  turned  toward 
the  spectators  on  the  bridge,  who  both  foolishly 
thought  that  by  dint  of  hard  wishing  such  magnetic 
power  might  be  exerted  upon  the  shapely  figures 
thus  presented  in  reverse,  as  to  compel  them  to  turn 
and  grant  one  last  look. 

The  Northern  express  drew  up  to  the  platform  ; 
the  ladies  reappeared  ;  they  entered  a  first-class  car- 
riage ;  the  engine  wheezed  and  the  train  rumbled  ; 
and  the  ardent  watchers  were  experiencing  a  sharp 
pang  of  disappointment,  when,  at  a  curve  of  the 
road,  they  saw  two  faces  at  the  open  windows  and 
received  two  indisputable  smiles,  which  were  repaid 
in  kind  from  the  bridge  with  every  gesture  of  re- 
spect of  which  hands  and  hats  are  capable. 

Would  they  ever  see  the  ladies  again  ? 

That  is  a  question  that  occurred  with  much  force 
to  Meldrum  and  Wadlow. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

WITH    GRAY    AT    STOKE    I'OCIS. 

BOTH  Meldrum  and  Wadlow  had  looked  forward 
with  the  keenest  anticipations  of  pleasure  to  visit- 
ing the  scene  of  Gray's  pathetic  Elegy.  A  kindred 
taste  for  the  sweet  and  sad,  when  deftly  commingled 
in  perfectly  finished  verse,  made  them  equally 
familiar  with  that  poem.  Musical,  delicious  lines 
from  it  rose  unbidden  to  their  memory  less  often  in 
passing  graveyards,  or  at  the  sight  of  funeral  pro- 
cessions, than  amid  the  throng  of  Broadway,  the 
whirl  of  Wall  Street,  the  frivolous  social  pleasures 
of  which  they  partook.  The  idea  furthest  possible 
from  their  thoughts,  as  they  repeated  bits  of  the 
Elegy  aloud  or  to  themselves,  was  that  of  death  or 
the  vanity  of  human  wishes.  They  drew  from  it  no 
personal  lesson  whatever.  Happily  exempt  from 
any  recent,  keen  bereavement  or  the  bitter  con- 
sciousness of  failure  in  life,  they  did  not  resort  to  it 
for  consolation.  It  was  their  good  fortune  to  enjoy 
it  for  its  intrinsic  sweetness  and  beauty,  its  fidelity 
to  the  night  side  of  nature,  its  all-embracing  hu- 
manity. The  melancholy  which  is  its  broad  under- 

138 


117  77  f   GRAY  AT  STOKE   FOG  IS.  139 

i tone  was  to  them  but  the  tender  gray  of  one  of  Corot's 
pictures,  or  the  plaintive  minors  of  a  nocturne  by 
Chopin— something  to  be  gratefully  accepted  with- 
out searching  analysis.  Driven  to  book,  the  friends 
could  not  have  give  one  reason  for  doting  on  the 
Elegy  that  would  have  satisfied  preacher  or  moralist. 
And  vet  they  had  planned  to  testify  their  profound 
love  of  Gray's  Elegy  by  an  act  from  which  the 
severest  of  homilists  might  well  have  recoiled. 
They  proposed  to  spend  a  few  hours  in  Stoke  Pogis 
church-yard,  after  dark. 

Their  immediate  point  of  departure  for  the  old 
burial  ground  was  Slough.  They  had  run  down 
from  London  and  put  up  at  "  The  Green  Man  "  for 
supper.  They  had  fortified  themselves  for  the  walk 
to  Stoke  Pogis — about  four  miles — by  a  solid  meal. 
On  its  completion  they  asked  the  obliging  landlord 
some  questions  about  the  road,  explaining  to  him 
the  object  of  their  projected  excursion.  He  was 
astonished  to  learn  that  two  men  who  did  not  ap- 
pear to  be  escaped  lunatics  should  propose  to  spend 
part  of  a  dark  cold  night  (for  such  was  the  out- 
look to  the  weatherwise)  in  a  graveyard,  of  all 
places. 

"  In  coorse  it  ain't  none  o'  my  business,  but,  if  I 
might  wenter  to  advvise  a  body,  I'd  say  stop  'ere  an' 
be  quite  comfortable-like  to-night  an*  go  over  to 
Stoke  Pogis  in  the  mornin'." 


Meld  rum,  as  spokesman,  curtly  said  "  No."  The 
landlord  knew  he  meant  it. 

"Wery  well.  No  offense  meant.  You  knows 
best.  I  takes  it  you'll  want  a  carriage,  or  leastways 
a  guide." 

Mcldrum  wasted  not  even  a  monosyllable  but 
shook  his  head  determinedly. 

'  Mcbbc  you'd  like  a  little  'amper  o'  cold  chicken 
an'  'am;  an'  I  begs  parding  for  mentionin1  brandy 
—to  keep  off  the  roometiz,  which  is  partickly 
catchin'  in  graveyards  after  dark." 

"Quite  true,"  was  the  gratifying  response.  "  Put 
up  a  pint  of  it." 

The  landlord  hurried  off  to  execute  a  commission 
which  enabled  him  to  make  something  extra  out  of 
his  eccentric  guests,  and  presently  returned  with  a 
bottle  labeled  "Fine  Old  Brandy,  1850." 

Mcldrum  pocketed  the  flask,  paid  the  score  and, 
with  a  glance  at  the  setting  sun,  remarked,  "It's  get- 
ting late,  and  we  must  be  off.  Don't  sit  up  for  us. 
Ta,  ta !  " 

"  I  wish  you  good  luck,  gents,  both.  But  it's  a 
mighty  queer  place  to  make  a  night  of  it— a  grave- 
yard is." 

The  three  laughed  together  at  the  oddity  of  the 
conceit,  the  truth  of  which  was  not  to  be  denied, 
and  the  Americans  turned  to  leave,  when  a  sudden 
thought  struck  Mcldrum. 


WITH  GRAY  AT  STOKE  FOG  IS.  H1 

"  I've  one  favor  to  ask  of  '  The  Green  Man.'  " 
"  Wich   I   shall  be   most  'appy   to  grant  it,"  an- 
swered  the   representative  of  that  hostelry.     "  Wot 
s  the  same  ?  " 

"Only  this — that  the  'Green  Man  '  shall  hang  out 
i  picture  of  himself — a  signboard,  you  know.  I 
rant  to  see  what  a  green  man  looks  like." 

''  It's  sing'ler  I've  never  seen  none,"  said  the  land- 
ord,  reflectively.  "  There's  plenty  o'  signs  with  pic- 
ers  of  Blue  Boars,  and  White  Lions,  and  Golden 
^vans,  an'  sich  like  as  never  existed.  Why  not  a 
jreen  Man,  too?  But  'old  a  minute.  Should  the 
nan  hisself  be  green,  or  would  you  only  put  him  in 
;reen  cloze  ?  " 

"  Both,  undoubtedly.  He  should  be  dressed  in  a 
nit,  say,  of  Lincoln  green,  with  shoes  of  bottle 
•reeii,  hat  of  pea  green  and  feather  of  the  same, 
ace  and  hands  of  olive  green,  hair,  beard,  and  eyes 
pple  green.  Nobody  could  possibly  mistake  that 
3rt  of  a  man  for  anything  but  a  Green  Man,"  said 
V'acllow,  taking  up  the  notion  and  letting  it  run 
way  with  him. 

"  Suttonly  not,"  replied  the  landlord,  with  a  look 
f  elation.  "  See  'ere.  I'll  get  Goslin,  the  painter 
\  glazier,  to  do  the  job  on  aboard.  He  can  make 
old-like,  by  rubbin'  in  ashes  an'  dirt  enough, 
hen  he  shall  put  on  thirteen  hundred  an'  fifty  in 
>-gers,  for  the  year  when  this  'ouse  was  built.  It 


looks  almost  that  age  (glancing  fondly  at  the  bat- 
tered structure,  \vhieh  had  a  spinal  depression  in  the 
ridgepole  peculiar  to  many  old  buildings).  Would 
that  draw  you  Americans,  d'ye  think?" 

"  No  doubt  of  it  whatever,"  said  Meldrnm.  "  Hut 
Heaven  forbid,  that  we  should  advise  such  a  fraud. 
And  Mr.  Landlord,"  he  continued,  with  mock  grav- 
ity, "  I  am  very  much  surprised  to  hear  you  propose 
it.  One  would  think  you'd  had  some  experience  in 
making  old  things  out  of  new — for  instance,  1850 
brandy  "  (caressing  the  bulging  bottle  that  dangled 
in  his  coat  tail). 

The  landlord  had  evidently  looked  for  a  compli- 
ment to  his  cleverness  in  catering  to  American 
tastes,  and  was  not  prepared  for  this  bantering  allu- 
sion to  his  fine  old  home-made  liquors.  While  he 
was  scratching  his  head  in  some  confusion  for  an 
answer  equal  to  the  emergency,  the  friends  set  forth 
•with  long  strides  for  the  vanquishment  of  the  four 
miles  to  Stoke  Pogis. 

The  outlines  of  all  objects  were  softened  in  the 
long  English  twilight,  as  they  left  the  green  confines 
of  a  high-hedged  lane,  and  passed  through  a  turn- 
stile into  the  narrow  path  which  gives  pedestrians 
their  shortcut  into  Stoke  Pogis  church-yard.  Climb- 
ing up  a  little  embankment,  they  gained  their  first 
view  of  the  church  whose  ivy-mantled  tower  still 
keeps  watch  and  ward  over  the  sleepers  in  its 


WITH  GRAY  AT  STOKE   FOG  IS.  143 

shadow.  To  look  at  it  in  its  reality  after  a  long  fa- 
niliarity  with  its  outlines  in  engravings  illustrative 
)f  the  Elegy,  was  like  seeing  again,  after  many  years' 
ibsence,  the  country  church  of  one's  youth. 

"  It  looks  natural,"  they  simultaneously  cx- 
rlaimcd,  as  if  they  were  revisiting  it  after  a  pro- 
longed residence  in  America.  "  The  church-yard  is 
:ertainly  unchanged,"  said  Wadlow,  unconsciously 
referring  to  the  pictures  of  it  he  carried  securely  in 
iiis  mind. 

"  I  should  have  said  a  big  yew  tree  used  to  stand 
ibout  here,"  said  Meldrurn,  with  the  same  pictures 
as  mental  guides.  "  Died  of  old  age,  I  suppose." 

With  many  such  remarks,  showing  how  carefully 
;hey  had  prepared  themselves  for  the  occasion,  they 
strolled  down  the  central  graveled  walk  between  the 
•leaving  turf  and  moldering  heaps  which  alone  mark 
..he  resting-place  of  the  nameless  rude  forefathers  of 
:he  hamlet.  Reserving  these  for  later  inspection 
jy  such  a  diminished  light  as  Gray  requires,  they 
lastcned  to  accost  a  person,  who  was  in  the  act  of 
ocking  up  the  old  church  for  the  night.  He  was  a 
:hin  little  man,  almost  doubled  up  with  years,  and 
/ct  having  so  much  seeming  toughness  in  his  very 
infirmities  that  many  a  healthy  middle-aged  man 
might  have  been  glad  to  exchange  chances  of  long- 
evity with  him. 

Meldrum,  after  bidding  this  living  companion  of 


T44  /'///•:  ENCHANTED. 

the  Stoke  Pogis  dead,  "  Good-evening,"  came  to  the 
point  with  a  sixpence  and  a  request  to  see  the  in- 
side of  the  church  in  which  Gray  himself  is  said  to 
have  worshiped  occasionally. 

"Which  was  his  (meaning  the  poet's)  pew  ?  "  he 
asked  of  the  guide,  who  obsequiously  preceded 
him. 

The  little  old  man  hobbled  up  the  aisle  in  the 
deepening  gloom,  and  paused  in  front  of  a  large  in- 
closed space,  over  the  high  wooden  walls  of  which 
one  could  hardly  look  save  on  tip-toe.  Opening  a 
door,  he  pointed  into  what  was  virtually  a  room, 
nicely  carpeted  and  cushioned,  and  further  blessed 
with  a  stove,  alongside  of  which  was  piled  wood  for 
fuel.  The  occupants  of  this  pew  would  be  so  com- 
pletely screened  from  impertinent  observation  that 
they  could  sleep  undetected  -barring  snores — 
through  tedious  sermons, —  a  great  privilege. 

"  So  this  was  his  pew,"  said  Wadlow,  treasuring 
up  its  aspect  in  a  comprehensive  glance. 

"Yes,  sir.  lie  sat  there,"  pointing  to  an  enormous 
arm-chair,  luxuriously  padded  in  the  back,  as  if  to 
facilitate  naps.  "  It  has  been  draped  in  mournin'. 
We  took  it  off  only  last  week." 

"  So  the  mourning  was  kept  on  for  over  a  hundred 
years,"  remarked  Meldrum.  "  I  did  not  suppose 
that  Gray  was  held  in  such  respect  even  here." 

The  puzzled   look  of  the  aged  servitor  gave  way 


WITH  GRAY  AT  STOKE   POGIS.  145 

o  mirth.  "  O,  I  see,  you  mean  the  man  wot 
/rote  them  lines  about  the  grave-yard  out  there, 
iein'  a  poet,  I  s'pose  lie  never  come  to  church.  I 
mows  a  poet  now  that's  allers  mousin'  round  here 
except  when  there's  service  goin'  on.  He's  what 
he  parson  calls  a  nobstick." 

"Ah,  an  agnostic,"  said  Meldrum,  laughing. 

"  This  'ere  pew, "resumed  the  guide,  assuming  his 
nost  important  air,  "  has  belonged  for  two  hundred 
/cars  to  Sir  Thomas  Crickcnback." 

"  Who  has  but  lately  died  in  his  two  hundredth 
/ear  ?  " 

"  Bless  you,  no  !  There  has  been  nine  Sir  Thom- 
ises  in  all  that  time.  The  eighth  one  we  buried  in 
his  ere  vault  two  months  ago,"  and  the  old  man 
pointed  with  a  lean,  trembling  forefinger  to  an  iron 
••ing  in  the  stone  floor,  and  stamped  with  his  feeble 
.'eet,  producing  a  sepulchral  echo.  "  Their  ladies 
mcl  children  is  stowed  away  down  there  with  'em. 
If  they  dont  stop  bein'  born  or  dyin'  we  shall  some 
Jay  have  to  build  either  a  new  vault  or  a  new 
:hurch  or  both  for  'em." 

There  is  no  telling  when  the  garrulous  old  fellow 
>vould  have  relinquished  his  favorite  topic,  had  not 
Meldrum  called  him  off  by  the  exhibition  of  an- 
other bit  of  silver,  coupled  with  the  petition  that 
le  might  have  the  loan  of  the  church  door  key  till 
norning;  giving  as  the  reason,  that  they  had  a 


146  THE  EX  CHARTED. 

whimsical  fancy  to  hear  the  hooting  of  the  owl  in 
the  old  tower,  and  it  would  be  pleasanter  for  them 
to  stay  in  the  church  till  the  bird  began  his  per- 
formances than  to  wait  outside  in  the  cold,  and 
Meldrum  significantly  nodded  into  the  cosy  depths 
of  the  Crickenback  pew. 

"  Anybody  can  see  you  arc  real  gents,"  said  the 
guide,  looking  stealthily  at  the  white  coin  in  his 
hand.  "  You  may  have  the  key  and  stay  in  here  as 
long  as  you  like.  Only,  when  you  do  go  away  you 
must  slip  it  under  the  first  flat  gravestone  to  the 
right  of  the  door.  But  there  ain't  no  owl  in  the 
tower  now  as  I've  heerd  of." 

This  news  was  a  shock  to  men  who  had  taken  the 
continuous  residence  of  a  lineally  descended  owl  in 
the  tower  for  granted,  as  well  as  the  rugged  elms, 
the  yew  tree's  shade  and  the  other  unchanging 
properties  of  the  hallowed  place. 

They  had  staked  much  of  their  happiness  at 
Stoke  Pogis  on  the  complaint  of  the  owl  to  the 
moon  when  she  should  observe  them  wandering 
near  her  secret  bower  and  molesting  her  ancient 
solitary  reign. 

"Ter- \vhit — ter-who — ter-who — ter-whit,"  sounded 
immediately  in  their  rear. 

The  friends  gave  a  nervous  start  at  this  most  un- 
expected and  welcome  of  interruptions.  But  the 
old  man  laughed  very  composedly  and  said,  "  it's 


WITH  GRAY  AT  STOKE  POG1S.  147 

y  rogue  of  a  grandson,  Jo.     He's  been  overhearin' 

As  he  spoke,  a  roughly  clad,  dirty-faced  urchin 
>peared  from  behind  a  pillar  where  he  had  been 

ding.  Unabashed,  he  advanced  to  the  Ameri- 
ins,  and  placing  his  arms  akimbo,  said — "  I'm  your 
3\vl  for  a  shillin'  an  hour." 

"  He  takes  off  all  kind  o'  birds  wonderful,"  ex- 
gained  the  grandfather,  with  unconcealed  delight, 
;  he  saw  how  artfully  the  child  was  bidding  for  the 
ranger's  coins.  It  was  a  proud  moment  for  the 
>nd  old  man. 

The  absurdity  of  the  proposal  made  the  darken- 
ig  church  ring  with  laughter,  to  which  was  joined 

brilliant  peal  of  ter-whits  ter-whos,  from  the 
raceless  Jo,  as  free  samples  of  what  they  might 
xpect  at  a  shilling  an  hour. 

"  It's  a  bargain,"  said  Meldrum,  when  he  had 
nally  sobered  down  to  business  and  the  require- 
lents  of  the  sacred  edifice.  "  Here's  for  the  first 
our  in  advance.  You  go  up  into  the  tower  and 
oot  every  five  minutes,  beginning  at  eight  o'clock, 
"hat's  curfew,  I  believe?" 

"  Curfoo  !  "  echoed  the  old  man.     "  I  dunno  it." 

"  It  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day  and  all  that 
ort  of  thing — first  line  of  the  Elegy,  you  know." 

The  word  "tolls"  carried  with  it  an  association 
>f  ideas  which  the  obsolete  word  "  curfew  "  had  not 


I48 

raised.  "  You  can  hear  the  Eton  clock  strike  from 
here,  when  the  wind  sets  this  \vriy,  if  that's  wot  you 
want." 

"All  right.  Its  sound,  with  that  of  the  bogus 
owl,  will  keep  us  company  in  our  lonely  watch." 

"  If  you  are  meanin'  to  stay  out  there  in  the 
grave-yard,  you  may  have  more  company  than  you 
likes,"  said  the  guide,  sinking  his  voice  to  a  hoarse 
whisper.  "  I've  hcerd  how  that  sometimes  the 
ghost  of  the  poet  Gray  comes  and  sits  on  his  own 
tomb.  It's  the  plain  one  nearest  the  church. 
You'll  know  it  by  the  name  carved  on  top." 

"  A  ghost  !  "  cried  Aleldrum.  "'How  delightful, 
if  he  should  show  up;  but  then  he  \\ill  keep  us 
waiting  till  midnight." 

"  The  time  would  be  well  spent  watching  for 
him,"  said  Wadlow. 

Grandfather  looked  aghast  at  men  capable  of  such 
levity  and  audacity,  and  then  relapsing  into  a 
friendly  interest  as  he  jingled  the  silver  tips  in  his 
pocket,  he  again  assured  them  that  they  were 
heartily  welcome  to  quarter  in  the  church  all  night 
if  they  wished. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

IGHT  SCENES  AND  THOUGHTS   IN  A  CIIURCII-YARD. 

BUT  little  light  now  struggled  through  the  deeply 
taincd  windows,  as  the  party  issued  from  the  build- 
ig.  The  feeble  old  fellow  bade  the  Americans 
ood-night  and  wished  them  good  luck,  as  he 
mped  out  of  the  church-yard  and  along  the  well- 
roddcn  foot  path  that  led  to  his  humble  cottage  in 
he  distance.  Jo  climbed  by  the  corkscrew  stair- 
asc  to  the  tower,  where  he  abided  the  Eton  stroke 
f  eight  to  fulfill  his  lucrative  engagement  as  owl. 
•  Teldrum  and  Waldon  strolled  off  among  the 
raves,  noticing  with  pleasure  how  nature  was  con- 
piring  to  further  the  object  of  their  presence  at 
.toke  Pogis.  The  evening  was  windless  and  not 
oo  cold  for  comfort.  The  landscape  was  begin- 
ing  to  fade  on  the  sight  and  the  air  held  a  solemn 
tillness.  They  found  the  brick  and  stone  tomb 
'Inch  contains  the  ashes  of  the  beloved  poet, 
nd  thanked  him  mentally  for  the  pure  delight  he 
.ad  given  to  their  whole  lives  by  his  Elegy,  and  in 
.dvance  for  the  refined  enjoyment  insured  them  by 
he  approaching  darkness.  Before  the  night  shut 

149 


150  777 r.    ENCHANTED, 

in,  they  hastened  to  decipher  some  of  the  names 
spelt  by  the  unlettered  muse  upon  moss-grown, 
toppling  stones,  and  the  accompanying  hoi}-  text 
made  almost  illegible  by  lichens,  which  yielded 
only  to  the  vicious  digs  of  a  jackknife.  The  un- 
wonted stooping  gave  them  cramps  in  the  small  of 
the  back',  and  they  threw  themselves  for  a  moment's 
respite  on  the  soft  lush  grass  between  two  little 
billows  of  earth  unmarked  by  any  stone.  Su^t, lin- 
ing heads  on  crooked  elbows,  they  reached  out 
and  icily  plucked  daisies  that  grew  profusely  about 
and  chewed  the  stems,  a  process  highlv  conducive 
to  meditation  for  reasons  that  Herbert  Spencer 
could  doubtless  give,  if  he  would  condescend  to 
philosophize  about  so  small  a  matter. 

To  them,  ruminating',  happy,  and  silent,  came  at 
length  the  slow  sweet  stroke  of  eight,  borne  over 
miles  of  dewy-scented  fields  from  Kton  College.  It 
was  the  curfew  without  the  name.  Promptly,  as 
by  contract,  sounded  the  counterfeit  "ter-\\hit  tcr- 
who,  ter-who  tcr-wit,"  from  the  ivy-mantled  tower. 
The  fidelity  of  the  tones  to  those  of  the  feathered 
original,  which  the  friends  had  often  heard  in  the 
country  clays  of  their  childhood,  was  perfect.  Only 
a  slight  tag  of  laughter  betrayed  to  those  who  were 
in  the  secret  the  human  source  of  the  notes. 

"Capital  !  "  said  Meldrum.  "  Now,  if  there  were 
only  a  moon  to  which  the  moping  owl  might  be 


NIGHT  SCEXES  AX  I)    THOUGHTS.  151 

aipposed  to  complain.     But  \vc    can't  have   every- 
.hing." 

"  True,"  added  his  comrade,  in  a  complacent  vein. 
'  For  example,   there   are   no  lowing   herds  audible 
is    the}"    wind    slowly    o'er    the    lea  ;     and,    if    an}' 
ilrowsy  tinklings  lull   the   distant  fold,  they  are   too 
•.listant   to    be  heard    by    us.      The    plowing   season 
is   over,    and,   therefore,    no    plowman    can    be    ex- 
pected to  be  plodding  his  weary  way  homeward  at 
this  or   any    other   hour.      1    don't  mind   the   loss  of 
these  things,  but,  as  there  must   be  beetles  about  at 
this   time   of    the.   year,  I  would    give  something   to 
:hear  just  one  wheel    his  droning"   flight."      As  \Vad- 
low  uttered   this  fervent  desire,  his    hat  was  smartly 
hit    by    some    flying    insect,    which     caromed     into 
,  space. 

"Thank    Heaven    for   so    much   assistance  to  the 

illusion!"     And   he  laughingly  removed  his  Derby, 

in   the  crown   of    which  could   be   seen   by   the  still 

I  lingering  twilight  a  small    dint   made:  by  the   hard 

I  shell  of  a  beetle. 

The  boom  of  coleoptcra  could  now  be  distinctly 
i  heard,  and  occasionally  the  friends  received  other 
proofs  of  their  activity  in  taps  on  the  cheeks,  and 
Meldrum  gently  disentangled  one  from  his  hair 
where  it  had  alighted.  "  It  is  realistic,  if  not  exactly 
pleasant,"  he  declared. 

"  Of  one  thing  I  am    fully   persuaded,"   he  con- 


15-'  THE   ENCHANTED. 

tinned,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Nature  never  meant 
that  a  healthy  man  should  think  much  about  death. 
All  around  me  are  reminders  of  the  inevitable  hour 
and  of  the  grave  to  which  the  paths  of  glory  lead, 
and  yet  the  fate  to  which  \ve  must  all  succumb 
has  not  been  in  my  thoughts  for  a  single  instant 
here." 

"  I  can  honestly  say  the  same,"  observed  \Yadlo\v. 
"To  be  frank-,  1  have  tried  to  coax  myself  into  some 
profitable  reflections  on  death  -such  as  seem  appro- 
priate to  this  place — but  I  can't  do  it.  I  am  so  far 
from  seriousness  and  morali/ing  that  I  confess  I  was 
about  to  laugh  as  you  spoke.  A  comical  idea  had 
struck  me." 

"  Let  me  share  it,"  said  Meldrum.  "  I  find  that  I 
cannot  possibly  help  being  in  the  facetious  vein,  too. 
It  is  Nature's  healthy  protest  :igainst  useless  dumps, 
I  suppose." 

The  hooting  of  the  hired  owl  cut  into  the  conver- 
sation, and  this  time  free  from  the  concluding  blem- 
ish which  they  had  noticed  at  first. 

"  If  he  keeps  it  up  like  that,"  said  Mcldrum,  "  I'll 
throw  in  an  extra  shilling." 

"  I  was  thinking,"  resumed  \Vadlow,  "  how  lucky 
for  the  world  it  is  that  the  Milton,  who  here  may 
rest,  was  mute  and  inglorious.  Imagine  two  or 
more  Miltons  with  a  corresponding  number  of  Para 
discs  Lost  or  their  equivalents  in  ponderous  epics 


bout  heaven  and  hell.  Consider  that  a  pair  of  Mil- 
ons  would  have  doubled  the  false  pretenses  of  culti- 
rated  people.  The}' would  all  have  been  obliged  to 
iffect  a  familiarity  with  one  more  undying  poem 
vhieh  the}'  had  never  read  save  in  the  windowings 
>f  anthologies  and  as  parsing  lessons  .it  school." 

"  Yes.  indeed  !  "  echoed  Meldrnm  ;  "  we  will 
:heerfully  admit  Milton  to  be  the  greatest  (A  Kng- 
ish  epic  poets,  and  entitled  to  the  immortality  of 
uncut  pages  in  the  finest  of  bindings,  and  still  rejoice- 
that  Nature  did  not  duplicate  that  particular  man 
with  his  precise  qualifications  for  writing  1'aradises 
Lost.  \Yhy,  much  as  I  admire  the  genius  of  Byron, 
even  two  Byrons  \vould  have  been  a  bore  !  " 

\Yadlow  pursued  the  tempting  theme.  "  What  if 
somebody  were  buried  here  who  might  have  scat- 
tered plenty  o'er  a  smiling  land,  if  his  lonely  lot  had 
not  forbade  it  ;  per  contra,  the  world  may  have  es- 
caped, in  the  enforced  obscurity  or  early  death  of 
somebody  else,  a  tyrant  who  would  have  waded 
through  slaughter  to  a  throne  and  shut  the  gates  of 
mercy  on  mankind.  Two  Miltons  or  two  Byrons 
would  be  heartily  welcomed  by  the  universe  when 
contrasted  with  two  possible  Napoleons  scourging 
the  human  family  into  untimely  graves  to  gratify 
their  insatiate  and  remorseless  pride  and  ambi- 
tion." 

"  After  all,  Madison,  is  it  true  that  any  rage  (in 


154  Till-.    ENCHANTED. 

the  quaint  phrasing  of  the  poet)  that  is  really  noble, 
was  ever  repressed,  or  is  the  genial  current  of  the 
soul  actually  frozen  by  chill  penury?  In  America 
we  should  certainly  scout  that  view  of  life  as  pusil- 
lanimous ;  and  English  literature,  science,  art,  and 
politics  abound  in  signal  proofs  of  the  triumph  of 
undoubted  genius  over  \vhat  Claude  Melnotte  calls 
'  low  birth  and  iron  fortune.'  I\icc  the  shade  of  Gray, 
it  seems  to  me  the  one  jarring  note  in  his  otherwise 
harmonious  Flegy." 

"Ouite  right,  Felix.  If  in  this  neglected  spot  is 
laid  a  heart  once  pregnant  with  celestial  fire,  or  a 
hand  that  the  rod  of  empire  might  have  swayed, 
depend  upon  it  that  the  owner  thereof  persisted  in 
willfully  stifling  or  indolently  neglecting  his  native 
gifts  and  keeping  the  noiseless  tenor  of  his  way 
along  the  cool,  sequestered  vale  of  life,  instead  of 
entering  the  race  like  a  man  for  the  prizes.  He 
simply  did  not  seize  the  opportunity  that  all  men 
have,  and  the  fact  that  he  let  it  go  by  proves  that 
he  did  not  deserve  the  earthly  rewards  he  missed. 
But  he  was  just  as  happy  without  them." 

Wad  low  dropped  into  this  closing  truism  with 
the  same  entire  lack  of  belief  in  it  that  invariably 
underlies  its  utterance  by  youth  and  health. 

"  But  this  is  no  place  nor  time  to  criticise  or  dis- 
parage any  bit  of  the  tendercst  and  sweetest  of 
poems,"  said  Mcldrum.  "Rather  let  us  thank 


.  1 

Thomas  Gray  for  the  exalted  pleasure  lie  has  given 
to  four  generations  of  men  by  the  Klegy." 

"  There's  an  enchanter  for  you  !  "  added  \Vadlo\v. 
"In  all  England,  perhaps,  no  church-yard  less  pic- 
turesque than  this  can  be  found.  Tear  up  those 
fe\v  rugged  elms  by  the  roots,  banish  that  yew 
tree's  shade,  and  its  scant}"  natural  attractions  are 
gone.  There  is  not  one  grave  here  that  a  tourist 
would  step  aside  to  see,  except  that  of  Gray,  and 
his  is  an  interesting  object  only  because  lie  wrote 
the  Klcgy.  Out  of  such  unpromising  materials 
genius  has  made  the  Mecca  of  cemeteries  to  \vhich 
pilgrims  will  resort  as  long  as  the  English  language 
lasts.  The  clock  strikes  nine  and  here  we  sit-  -shiv- 
ering in  the  cold  and  catching  the  rheumatism,  be- 
cause Gray  chose  to  celebrate  this  particular  church- 
yard in  poetry." 

"  Ter-whit  ter-who,  ter-who  tcr-whit,"  hooted  the 
owl,  high  and  dry  in  his  belfry,  as  if  mocking  the 
folly  of  the  two  sentimentalists  down  there  in  the 
damp  grass. 

"  l>y  a  natural  association  of  ideas,"  said  Mel- 
drum,  "  I  do  now  remember  the  fine  old  brandy  of 
1850,  which  I  had  quite  forgotten.  Let  us  button 
up  our  overcoats  and  take  a  nip."  Suiting  the  ac- 
tion to  the  word,  he  fastened  his  surtout  about  his 
chest  to  a  mummy-like  tightness  (VVadlow  following 
the  example),  and  then  produced  from  its  deep  re- 


lj(>  /'//A     I:\CII  \.\  /•/./'. 

cess  the  neglected  bottle.  "  The  corkscrew,  Madi- 
son." 

\Vadlow  fumbled  in  several  pockets  for  that 
treasure  of  a  knife,  which  comprised,  with  six 
blades  of  different  sixes,  a  corkscrew,  a  gimlet,  an 
aul,  and  file,  but,  as  usual  in  such  emergencies,  it 
had  been  left  behind  in  the  other  trousers. 

With  experience  born  of  many  youthful  picnics, 
Mcldiuni  was  about  to  clip  off  the  neck  of  the  flask 
with  a  dexterous  bl<>w  of  his  walking  stick",  when  his 
friend  huskily  whispered,  "There's  some  one  else 
in  the  church-yard.  Look!  I  I  is  right  arm  was 
extended  toward  Gray's  tomb,  the  outline  of  which 
\vas  visible  at  the  distance1  of  four  or  five  rods.  A 
figure,  clad  in  an  old-fashioned  cloak-  re-aching  to 
the  heels  and  wearing  a  large  slouched  hat,  was  tak- 
ing a  slow,  measured  tread  which,  the  next  mo- 
ment, brought  him  to  the  tomb,  whereon  he  seated 
himself  and  folded  his  arms,  his  head  sinking  on  his 
breast.  The  action  recalled  to  both  observers 
Gray's  own  words,  supposed  to  describe  some  of  his 
chameleon-like  moods:  "Now  drooping,  woeful, 
wan,  like  one  forlorn  or  crazed  with  care  or  crossed 
in  hopeless  love." 

"  If  it  were  midnight,  I  should  say  that  was  Gray's 
ghost,  of  which  we  have  been  forewarned,"  whis- 
pered Meldrum,  with  a  slight  tremor,  doubtless 
attributable  to  the  chilliness. 


'57 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  luck}'  if  it  were,"  responded 
Wadlow,  in  a  tone  that,  somehow  did  not  express 
unmixed  pleasure. 

"  Ter-who  ter-whit,"  cried  the  owl,  and,  at  the 
first  mournful  note,  the  figure  on  the  tomb  threw 
up  his  head  with  a  sharp,  undignified  jerk,  and 
muttered  some  words  inaudible  to  the  strained  ears 
of  the  two  friends. 

Slow,  deliberate  motions  and  absolute  taciturnity 
(save  when  spoken  to)  have  became  so  fully  incor- 
porated, by  tradition,  with  the  universal  concep- 
tion of  a  ghost,  that  the  uY-.h  and  blo,,d  quality  of 
the  apparition  was  proclaimed  at  once,  and  further- 
more confirmed  by  his  hasty  removal  of  his  hat  and 
persistent  scratching  of  his  head,  like  one  trying  to 
grub  up  latent  ideas.  Then  he  pulled  a  corner  of  the 
huge  extinguisher  over  his  eyes,  refolded  his  arms 
and  became  motionless,  though  the  listeners  could 
still  hear  low,  incoherent  mutterings. 

"  He's  wrapped  in  his  own  thoughts  and  will  not 
notice  our  approach.  Let's  surprise  him  for  fun," 
suggested  Wadlow,  and  the}'  thereupon  concerted  a 
little  scheme  to  startle  the  man  who  was  taking 
such  liberties  with  Gray's  tomb. 

So,  stealing  off  in  different  directions,  bending 
low  in  the  shadow  of  gravestones,  crawling  on  all 
fours  across  open  spaces,  they  succeeded  in  attaining 
points  in  the  rear  of  their  victim.  Then  closing  in 


•53 

with  silent  swiftness,  till  they  stood  almost  within 
touch  of  him,  they  were  about  to  utter  the  pre- 
concerted "  boo,"  when  a  remark  from  the  uncon- 
scious person  caused  a  sudden  change  in  their  pro- 
gramme — 

"  Fowl,  cowl,  growl,  howl—pshaw  !  how  few  good 
rhymes  there  are  to  owl  ! 

Wudlow's  poetic  instinct  at  once  asserted  itself. 
Instead  of  playing  spook"  for  the  mystification  of 
the  heedless  stranger,  he  found  another  rhyme  on 
the  instant  from  force  of  habit. 

"  How  would  jowl  do?"  he  asked,  in  his  ordinary 
voice. 

"Or  soul,  if  you  pronounce  it  Irish  fashion," 
added  Mcldrum,  himself  disarmed  by  the  appeal  to 
his  old  talent  of  rhyming  which  had  been  buried  in 
a  napkin  these  man}'  years. 

There    is    no    tcllin<_f    what    effect    two    vigorous 

o  o 

"boos"  might  have  produced  upon  that  man  sitting 
upon  that  tomb  at  that  hour  of  the  night  ;  but  he 
turned  round  quite  calmly,  and  simply  replied 
"  Thank'  you,"  in  a  melancholy  voice,  and  then 
stared  at  the  dark-  forms  near  him  as  if  awaiting 
some  explanation. 

"  It's  clear  yon  don't  believe  in  ghosts,"  said 
Mcldrum,  pleasantly. 

"  If  I  did  I  should  not  be  here,"  and  the  friends 
could  sec  a  large  mouth  curved  in  a  sad  smile, 


NIGHT  SC1-.XES  A XI)    THOUGHTS.  159 

"  No  fear  of  robbers?  "  asked  Wadlow,  playfully. 

"  Not  much,"  returned  the  deep  chest  voice. 
"  I  am  a  poet  and  chronically  cleaned  out.  I 
couldn't  stand  and  deliver  anything  more  valuable 
than  a  fe\v  sonnets — and  the  world  doesn't  love 
them  overmuch."  Here  his  tones  became  tomb- 
like. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

A     MMPKKN     KLMGIAC     POET    SKKKING     I  NSl'l  KA'IK  )\ 
AT    Till',    I  '  il'XT. 

"  I  low  do  you  happen  to  be  here  at  this  hour.''" 
asked  Mcldrum,  kindly,  ami  yet  with  an  uncoii- 
cealable  touch  of  proprietorship  in  the  church-yard, 
as  if  his  private  en^a^emrnt  of  the  owl  had  some- 
how given  him  a  monopoly  of  the  plaee  for  self  and 
friend. 

"I  often  come  here  for  inspiration/'  explained 
the  man.  "  I  seem  to  extract  it  from  (i ray's  tomb 
merely  by  sitting  on  it." 

\Vadlo\v  \vas  on  the  point  of  saying  "  through  the 
pores,  I  presume,"  but  he  forbore  to  make  that  un- 
worthy remark. 

"  It  is  but  natural,  as  elegiac  poetry  is  my  forte. 
And  where  should  I  come  for  ideas  but  to  the  foun- 
tain of  Elegy  ?  "  rapping  the  stone  with  his  knuck- 
les, to  indicate  an  inexhaustible  well-spring  be- 
neath. "  You  arc  Americans,  I  know  by  your 
accent.  It  is  barely  possible  that  even  in  your 
distant  country  you  may  have  heard  of  Hippie- 
down?  " 

i  Go 


i  (>  I 

Meldrum's  h;ibitu;il  politeness  would  not  permit 
him  to  say  "  no,"  or  even  to  shake  his  head.  Casu- 
ists ma)-  condemn  him  as  they  will,  but  it  is  a  fact 
that  he  nodded,  and  his  voiceless  affirmation  was 
abetted  by  the  too  flexible  \YadIow. 

It  was  a  cheap  way  of  giving  the  melancholy 
stranger  a  great  pleasure,  which  appeared  in  the 
sudden  expansion  of  his  lean  face  into  a  true  smile, 
from  which  it  promptly  subsided  into  its  normal 
gloom. 

"  Thank  you  !  thank-  you  !     What  you  have  both 

said  (they  had  said  nothing)  goes   far  to  solace  me 

for  the  too  habitual  neglect  of  my  own  countrymen. 

It  is  not  for  me,  perhaps,  to  assert  that  my  heart   is 

pregnant  with  celestial  fire,  or  that  I  could  wake  to 

ecstasy  the  living  lyre  if  I  had  the  chance.     It  may 

be  that  others  will  say  that  of  me  too  late,   when   I 

am  laid  away  here,"  and    he  glanced  significantly, 

almost  yearningly,   at   a   little    unoccupied    strip  of 

ground  that   would  have   snugly  fitted    his  attenu- 

:  ated  frame.     Then  ensued  a  pause,  which  his  hcar- 

.  ers  did  not  improve  by  the  sympathetic  remarks  for 

which  the  poet  was  probably  waiting. 

"  Ter-who  ter-whit  !  " 

"  That's  what  brought  me  here  to-night,  gcntle- 
i    men.     I've  lived,  man  and  boy,   in  these  parts  for 
thirty  years  and  never  before  have  I  heard  an  owl 
in  that  tower." 


102  THE   ENCHANTED, 

"  And  you  thought  an  occurrence  so  extraor- 
dinary should  he  duly  commemorated  in  a  poem," 
said  Mel  drum. 

"  You  have  divined  my  purpose.  Hearing  the 
bird  of  night  as  I  was  walking  home  from  Slough, 
the  idea  Hashed  upon  me  of  celebrating  the  return 
of  (Jlray's  owl  —  I  mean,  of  course,  a  descendant  of 
the  original  one— to  her  secret  bower.  Acting 
promptly  upon  the  happy  thought,  1  sought  the 
poet's  tomb  for  tin-  usual  aid  it  affords  me  in  com- 
poMt  i'  >n." 

"  You  were  at  work  on  the  poem  when  we  inter- 
rupted you  ?  " 

"  I  was,  if  work  it  may  be  called  which  is  a  pleas- 
ure. Hut  so  far  from  interrupting,  you  have  helped 
me  in  suggest  ing  t\vo  capital  rhymes  for  owl,  both 
of  which  are  novel  and  available.  I  am  roughly 
projecting  a  poem  of  from  twelve  to  sixteen  stan- 
zas, with  a  rhyme  for  owl  in  each." 

Both  Meldrum  and  \Yadlow  expressed  a  curiosity 
to  see  the  poem  in  print,  and  asked  where  and 
when  it  would  probably  appear. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Mr.  Ilipplcdown, 
bitterly.  "  There  is  a  clique  of  shallow  society 
poets  in  possession  of  all  the  magazines.  So  I 
cannot  gain  admission  there.  I  used  to  be  welcome 
to  a  corner  of  the  county  newspaper,  but  the 
editor  now  tells  me  that  the  public  taste  is  inclining 


EI. EC,  i. ic  roET  SEEKL\C,  LWIRATIOX.      163 

more  and  more  to  light  and  flippant  verses.  There 
seems  only  one  place  left  for  a  poet  who  deals 
\vith  the  solemnities  of  life.  I  am  almost  ashamed 
to  name  it." 

"  \Ye  should  be  pleased  to  kno\v,  if  the  disclosure 
docs  not  wound  you  too  deeply,"  said  \Vadlow, 
compassionately. 

"  Well,  the  obituary  column.  The  editor  assures 
me  that  room  will  always  be-  found  for  my  poetry 
on  payment  of  the  regular  advertising  rates." 

"  A  hard  condition,  indeed,"  commented  Meld- 
rum. 

"  Hard  as  it  is,  the  arrangement  is  the  only  one 
which  pays  me  at  all.  It  works  like  this:  I  have 
an  elegiac  trifle  on  hand.  A  man  in  the  neighbor- 
hood loses  his  father,  mother,  wife,  son,  daughter, 
or  any  member  of  his  family.  I  promptly  call 
upon  him  and  show  him  some  verses  which,  with  a 
little  change  to  suit  his  particular  bereavement,  will 
'.express  his  feelings  of  sorrow.  He  buys  them  and 
prints  them  in  the  paper  at  his  own  expense  and 
•  generally  over  his  own  signature." 

"  You  make  money,  but  no  reputation  out  of 
it." 

"  And  precious  little  cash."  The  poet  heaved  a 
sigh  in  which  the  two  friends  philanthropically 
joined. 

"  The  lines  you  propose  on  the  return  of  the  long 


164 

missing  owl  to  the  scene  of  the  Elegy  are  ob- 
viously unsuited  to  use  in  obituaries,"  remarked 
Meldrum. 

"  Yes,  I  shall  reserve  them,  with  man)-  another 
elaborate  production  of  my  muse,  to  some  happy 
day,  when  the  public  tires  of  folly  in  rhyme  and 
bids  ils  poets  discourse  of  the  gravest  issues  of  life 
and  death.  Then  will  come-  my  turn  and  with  it 
m}-  book." 

Air.  Ilippledown's  profound  che>t  voice  rose 
several  notes  in  the  scale  as  he  uttered  this  cheerful 
prophecy  and  found  his  evident  consolation  in  it. 

During  this  conversation  the  Americans  had  famil- 
iarly seated  themselves  on  the  flat  top  of  Gray's 
tomb,  on  either  side  of  their  new  acquaintance.  It 
comfortably  accommodated  all  three.  Hut  the  cold 
touch  of  the  marble,  combined  with  the  increasing 
frigidity  of  the  atmosphere  as  the  night  drew  on, 
struck  a  chill  to  the  bones  of  two  of  the  sitters,  un- 
accustomed as  they  were  to  such  exposure.  A I  el- 
drum  thought  it  high  time  to  take  the  postponed 
"nip,"  as  an  infallible  prescription  against  rheuma- 
tism. 

"  Permit  me  to  consult  you  on  a  delicate  question 
of — ahem — church-yard  propriety,"  said  he. 

The  poet  bowed  with  a  pleased  expression,  as  one 
who  is  complimented  on  his  expert  knowledge  of  a 
recondite  specialty. 


,65 

"  Would  it  be  entirely  proper  and  becoming  in  us 
three  persons,  drawn  hither  as  we  are  to-night  by 
our  profound  admiration  of  the  Klegy  and  its 
author  to — to  drink  together —to  the  memory  of 
Gray"  " 

"Undoubtedly,"  was  the  energetic  response. 
"  What  have  you  got  to  drink  ?  " 

"  Vou  shall  see  if  you  have  a  corkscrew." 

"  I  never  go  without  one,  and  here  it  is." 

Meldrum  produced  the  bottle  and  opened  it  in  a 
trice,  and  then  politely  handed  it  to  the  poet  to  set 
an  example  of  decorum  in  the  performance  of  the 
solemn  impending  rite. 

Air.  Ilipplcdown  raised  the  bottle  slowly  with 
,  his  right  hand  to  the  extreme  length  of  his  arm,  and 
removed  his  huge  hat  with  his  left  hand.  Pointing 
the  neck  of  the  bottle  toward  the  zenith,  as  if  in  al- 
lusion to  the  present  presumptive  home  of  the  poet, 
he  brought  it  as  slowly  back  to  his  lips,  murmuring 
"  Here's  to  the  sacred  memory  of  Gray,"  and  kept  it 
there  for  a  surprising  length  of  time,  at  an  acute 
angle. 

Wadlow  was  on  the  point  of  saying  "  turn,"  play- 
full}',  when  Mr.  Ilippledown  was  obliged  to  pause 
for  breath,  recovering  which,  he  remarked,  as  he 
passed  the  bottle,  that  he  hoped  he  had  opened  the 
impressive  ceremony  with  due  solemnity. 

"Admirably,"   said     Meldrum,     and    he    gravely 


I  66  THE   EM'JIAXTEJJ. 

copied  the  stately  method  of  his  exemplar,  as  far  as 
applying  the  flask  to  his  lips.  When  the  liquor  be- 
gan to  trickle  down  his  throat,  its  fiery  quality 
nearly  strangled  him.  lie  withdrew  the  bottle  pre- 
cipitately and  handed  it  to  Wadlow,  who  went 
through  the  prescribed  formula  \vith  the  same  un- 
pleasant result.  The  poet  looked  at  them  both 
with  obvious  compassion  for  their  incapacity  to 
gulp  down  raw  spirits  without  flinching. 

"  I  have  another  nice  question  of  etiquette  for 
you.  Would  it  be  wholly  out  of  place  to  to  Mnoke 
to  the  memory  of  Thomas  Gray  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  Regard  the  fumes  of  tobacco 
in  the  light  of  incense,  and  there  you  have  a 
ceremony  of  the  deepest  significance-.  Pipe  or 
cigar?  " 

Meldrum  replied  by  a  courteous  tender  of  prime 
Ilavanas,  and  the  three  occupiers  of  (Iray's  tomb 
were  soon  exhaling  clouds  which  bore  skyward  their 
heartfelt  gratitude  to  the  author  of  the  Elegy. 

Mr.  Ilippledown  was  clearly  in  the  vein  of  hero- 
worship  that  night  ;  for  a  few  minutes  afterward 
he  grasped  the  bottle,  which  had  been  carelessly  set 
down  on  the  marble  slab  near  him,  and,  without  a 
word,  applied  it  to  the  large  orifice  in  his  face,  and 
took  another  long  pull  at  the  contents.  This  time 
his  invocation,  if  any,  was  silently  made,  and  a 
chance  spectator  would  have  supposed  lie  was  only 


!  RLEGIAC  PORT  SEEKING  INSPIRATION.        167 

taking  a  stiff  drink  to  quench  a  thirst  which  seemed 
well  nigh  insatiable. 

When,  at  length,  the  physical  necessity  of  breath- 
ing compelled  him  to  withdraw  the  bottle,  and  it 
came  again  into  Meldrum's  hand,  he  noticed  with 
some  alarm  its  greatly  reduced  weight.  He  sus- 
pected that  Mr.  Ilippledown  had  that  temperamen- 
tal weakness  for  liquor  to  which  so  many  of  the 
poetically  gifted  have  fallen  victims.  lie  feared 
that  this  sad  man,  in  trying  to  drown  his  sorrows, 
might  get  drunk,  and  that  from  his  intoxication 
might  arise  some  deed  or  word  not  entirely  respect- 
ful to  the  shades  of  the  man  they  all  so  greatly  re- 
vered. Yielding  to  a  not  unreasonable  impulse  of 
precaution,  he  said,  "  1  now  beg  to  suggest  still 
a  third  mode  of  expressing  the  same  beautiful 
thought  conveyed  in  the  previous  two  ceremonies. 
It  is  a  rite  of  the  remotest  antiquity." 

Mr.  Ilippledown  opened  his  eyes  and  mouth,  won- 
dering what  was  to  come  after  brandy  and  cigars. 

"  I  allude  to  the  immemorial  custom  of  libation," 
continued  Meldrum,  suddenly  turning  the  bottle 
neck  down  and  letting  the  pungent  liquor  gurgle  to 

ithe  ground  at  the  base  of  the  tomb. 

"  Oh  !  That's  un-Cliristian — it's  positively  heathen- 

[ish  !"  cried  Mr.  Ilippledown,  stretching  out  a  hand 
in  indignant  protest.     But    Meldrum,  with  hat  re- 

:  moved,  and  saying  in  a  voice  quivering  as  if  with 


1 6  8  rill:    EX  CHAN  TED, 

emotion,  "  To  the  dear  memory  of  Thomas  Gray," 
permitted  the  mysterious  concoction  from  the 
Green  Man's  cellar  to  drench  the  grass. 

The  act,  for  some  reason,  deeply  offended  Mr. 
Hippledown.  lie  looked  with  disapproval  at  the 
spot  whence  the  wasted  spirit  s  exhaled  a  penetrating 
odor.  lie  sniffed  several  times  as  if  regretfully 
parting  with  it.  Then,  after  a  little  silence,  which 
the  Americans  were  indisposed  to  break  (perhaps 
because  their  new-found  friend  was  becoming  slightly 
tedious)  he  rose,  wrapped  his  long  cloak  about  him, 
and  with  cold  politeness,  bade  them  good-night. 

"Good-night!"  said  the}-  together,  and  the  un- 
feathered  owl  chimed  in  with  his  "  ter-u  hit  ter- 
who  !  " 

The  Americans  extended  their  hands  for  a  formal 
farewell,  and  each  had  a  pretty  little  speech  on 
the  end  of  his  tongue  ;  but  the  pod  turned  his  back 
on  them  and  stalked  along  the  pebbly  path  which 
led  to  the  narrow  road  or  lane  adjoining  the  church- 
yard, the  glow  of  his  nervously  puffed  cigar  making 
a  little  halo  of  light  about  his  head.  The}-  called 
again  "  Good-night  "  and  threw  "Good  luck  "  after 
it  ;  but  no  response.  In  the  kindness  of  his  heart 
Meldrum  regretted  that  he  had  done  anything,  even 
with  the  best  intentions,  to  drive  away  the  poor  fel- 
low. I  lad  he  known  Mr.  Ilippledown  better,  he 
would  have  had  no  misgivings  as  to  his  capacity  for 


imbibing  liquor  without  showing  it  in  speech  <>r 
deed.  If  the  poet  felt  pride  in  any  thing  outside 
his  poetry  it  was  in  his  exceptional  gift  of  hold- 
ing out  against  that  intoxication  to  which  weaker 
men  were  forced  to  yield  in  nocturnal  bouts  with 
the  bottle  at  the  village  inn.  Mr.  Ilippledown  had 
instinctively  surmised  the  true  reason  which 
prompted  the  libation,  and  deemed  it  an  unjust  re- 
flection on  himself.  His  sensibilities  were  as  keenly 
wounded  by  it  as  if  his  poetical  genius  had  been 
denied  and  derided.  Hut  it  is  not  correct  to  infer 
that  Mr.  Ilippledown  was  rendered  unhappy  in  con- 
sequence. He  was  a  man  who  dearly  loved  his 
grievance,  and  from  choice  was  never  without  it,  in- 
venting one  if  there  were  none  in  reality.  While 
the  strangers  were  reproaching  themselves  for  a 
: fancied  lack  of  sympathy  with  that  humble  disciple 
lof  Gray,  he  was  felicitating  himself  on  the  acquisition 
of  a  good  fresh  grudge  against  Society.  To  him 
the  bitterness  of  the  thought  was  inexpressibly 
sweet. 

Left  to  their  own  devices,  they  agreed  that  it  was 
a  measure  of  common  prudence  to  get  under  cover. 
Cold  and  sleepy,  they  pictured  to  themselves  the 
cosiness  of  Sir  Thomas  Crickenback's  high-backed 
pew,  with  the  chill  taken  off  by  a  fire  in  the  stove. 
As  they  walked  toward  the  door  of  the  church,  Jo 
saw  them  from  the  tower,  and  sounding  a  last  "  ter- 


17°  7V/ A    ENCHANTED. 

who/'  descended  to  meet  them.  Meldrum  expressed 
satisfaction  with  his  able  performance  of  the  diffi- 
cult part  of  owl,  and  gave  him  the  stipulated  sum 
with  a  gratifying  bonus. 

"  Mayn't  I  do  it  for  ye  to-morrer  night  ?  "  asked 
the  delighted  boy. 

"  Once  in  a  life  time  is  enough,"  said  his  employer, 
laughingly.  "  lUit  .^ee  here,  Jo,  can  you  imitate  a 
cock"  crowing  .'  " 

For  answer  he  was  saluted  with  a  tremendous 
cock-a-doodle-doo,  which  provoked  echoes  from  all 
the  neighboring  barn-yards. 

"Admirable!     And  a  hunting  horn?" 

A  clear  piercing  toot  was  the  response,  which 
woke  up  some  fox-hounds  in  a  distant  kennel,  and 
they  bayed  in  recognition  of  the  call. 

"Good!  ]>e  under  the  altar  window  at  sunrise 
and  make  both  those  sounds  till  you  wake  us  and 
we  cry  out  '  stop.'  ' 

Meldrum  desired  to  see  how  the  church-yard 
would  look  at  the  breezy  call  of  incense-breathing 
morn,  to  hear  the  incidental  accompaniments  of  the 
cock's  shrill  clarion  or  the  echoing  horn,  and  possi- 
bly the  swallow  twittering  from  the  straw-built 
shed,  though  he  did  not  remember  having  seen  any 
shed  of  that  description  in  the  vicinity.  The  fifth 
stanza  of  the  Elegy,  palpitating  with  exquisite  im- 
agery, had  persistently  haunted  the  friends  for 


ELEGIAC  rOl:  T  S1:1:KL\G  IXSl'lK. I  77U.V.        I  7  I 

many  years,  and  they  longed  to  realize  it  on  the 
spot.  Jo's  rare  talent  of  mimicry  would  enable 
them  to  do  this. 

"  For  another  shillin'  I'll  throw  in  ahull,  a  sheep, 
a  dog,  and  a  cat.  Or  mebbe  you'd  like  a  bagpipe," 
and  Jo  gave  a  taste  of  its  quality,  which  was  bad 
save  to  the  ears  of  a  perfcrvid  Scot. 

"  That  will  do  no\v,"  said  Meldrum,  with  his  teeth 
on  edge. 

The  bargain  being  struck  for  the  simple  matinee 
performance,  as  aforesaid,  the  party  proceeded  to 
the  Crickenback  pew,  where  Jo  lighted  the  kindling 
wood  in  the  convenient  little  stove  and  speedily  re- 
duced the  chill  to  the  point  of  endurance.  Meldrum 
made  himself  at  home  in  the  great  arm-chair  whose 
soporific  properties  had  been  tested  by  so  man}' 
generations  of  Sir  Thomases.  \Yadlow  stretched 
himself  at  full  length  on  a  bench  with  a  hassock  for 
a  pillow.  In  ten  minutes  both  were  so  fast  asleep, 
after  the  fatigues  of  the  night,  that  Boanerges  thun- 
dering his  "  Lastly"  from  the  pepper  box  of  a  pul- 
pit hard  by  would  have  failed  to  wake  them,  though 
the  sleepiest  of  Sir  Thomases  invaribly  opened  his 
eyes  from  force  of  habit  at  that  welcome  stage  of 
the  perfunctory  discourse. 

The  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet,  in  their  nar- 
)  row  cells  forever  laid,  were  not  a  surer  prey  to  dumb 
;forgetfulness  until  sunrise  the  next  day  than  the 


172 

tired  inmates  of  Stoke  I'ogis  church.  Ikit  when  Jo, 
as  the  cock  crew  thrice  and  followed  with  the  blast 
of  what  seemed  a  fog  horn  for  loudness,  they  had  a 
decided  advantage  over  the  faster  sleepers  out 
there  :  for  they  were  roused  to  consciousness  and  to 
all  the  pleasures  of  a  new  day. 

A  peremptory  "  Stop  !  "  was  necessary  lo  end  the 
odious  noise  raised  by  Jo  in  the  conscientious  per- 
formance of  his  contract. 

As  they  emerged  from  the  old  church,  the  early 
morn  was  breathing  an  incense  in  which  one  mmht 

i— >  O 

detect  hawthorn,  honey-suckle  and  roses,  struggling 
for  sweet  supremacy.  If  there  were  no  swallows 
twittering  for  the  want  of  straw-built  sheds,  there 
were  other  swallows  silently  skimming  the  air  for 
their  breakfasts.  The  butterflies  and  bees  had  be- 
gun their  foraging  excursions  among  the  wild  flow- 
ers that  nodded  above  the  grass,  more  precious  to 
the  lover  of  nature  than  all  the  transplanted  blos- 
soms that  money  can  buy.  Neglected  the  spot  may 
be  by  artificial  gardening,  but  the  impartial  sun  did 
not  forget  it  in  the  allotment  of  his  glorious  beams, 
and  the  diamonds  of  dew  tipping  every  tiny  grass- 
blade  were  all  of  the  first  water.  A  deep  and  holy 
peace  rested  over  all — a  peace  so  grateful  in 
contrast  with  the  toil  and  din  outside  this  charmed 
precinct,  that  one  for  the  moment  could  hardly  im- 
agine a  worse  fate  for  the  silent  inhabitants  of  Stoke 


'73 

I'OLMS  church-yard  than  to  be  roused  once  more 
from  their  lowly  beds  to  partake  of  the  universal 
feverish  unrest. 

In  a  sense  different  from  that  convoyed  by  the 
poet,  the  Americans  cast  more  than  one  lony;,  HIIL;"- 
ei'in^  look"  behind,  as  the}'  quitted  the  hallowed 
Around  and  trudged  toward  Slough  and  the  railway 
station  and  the  inevitable  burdens  of  daily  life. 


CIIAITKK    XIV. 


"SrrrosK  we  call  this  the  identical  spot,  Madi- 
son," saiil  Meldrum,  sinking  exhausted  on  a  table- 
rock  that  overhung  a  ravine. 

"Agreed,  Felix, "and  \Yadlow  panted  with  the 
unwonted  exertions  which  had  raised  him  to  a  point 
just  short  of  the  snow  line  of  the  fungfniu. 

"There  is  nothing  really  to  show  that  Manfred 
climbed  any  higher  than  this,"  continued  Meldrmn, 
as  if  in  apology  to  an  invisible  somebody  who  had 
accused  him  of  shirking  his  duty. 

"  The  place  where  we  are  seems  to  fill  the  prin- 
cipal requirements  of  Act  I,  Scene  II,"  added  the 
other,  in  the  same  spirit  of  self-justification. 

"  F'ully.  Yonder  are  the  blasted  pines,  on  the 
slope  by  which  we  ascended,  some  hundreds  of  feet 
below  us.  Manfred  must  have  had  them  in  his  eye 
when  he  was  soliloquizing  from  the  cliff." 

"  And  this  is  the  cliff  itself." 

The  friends  crawled  cautiously  to  the  brink  and 
looked  over.  Their  eyes  having  been  adjusted  for 
a  depth  of  half  a  mile,  they  were  sadly  disillusioned 


j  WITH  BYRON  ON    Till-:  J(  \\CI-KAU.  175 

for  the  moment  on  seeing  before  them  a  depression 
of  about  sixty  feet,  down  the  bank  of  which  they 
might  have  slid  in  perfect  safety. 

Meldrum  was  the  first  to  rally,  with  a  plausible 
explanation.  "  It  has  all  been  filled  in  by  land- 
slides since  Manfred's  day.  Time  works  wonderful 
changes  in  these  mountains." 

"  Of  course,"  seconded  \Vadlow.  "  No  reasonable 
person  would  ask  Nature  to  suspend  her  operations 
merely  to  oblige  him.  It  would  have  given  us  great 
pleasure  to  find  the  fathomless  gulf  into  which  Man- 
fred talked  of  jumping,  precisely  as  he  left  it.  But 
if  avalanches  will  fall  ami  fill  up  gorges  with  rocks 
and  earth  almost  to  the  brim,  we  must  only  make 
the  best  of  the  altered  situation." 

"  Speaking  of  avalanches,  Madison,  we  ought  to 
see  some  from  here  ;  Manfred  did." 

44  That  was  before  Baedeker  was  issued.  If  Byron 
had  had  a  Baedeker  in  hand  when  he  wrote  Man- 
fred, he  would  have  learned  from  it  that  avalanches 
do  not  begin  to  fall  till  about  noon,  when  the  hot 
rays  of  the  sun  loosen  the  hold  of  the  Jungfrau  on 
the  snow,  and  down  it  comes.  Armed  with  that 
scientific  truth,  the  poet  would  have  set  his  Manfred 
on  this — shall  we  call  it  dizzy? — height  about 
;  luncheon-time,  not  before  breakfast.  Then  it  would 
have  been  all  right  for  the  misanthropic  hero  of  the 
poem  to  invite  the  avalanches  to  crush  him,  which 


i76 

they  could  not  possibly  have  done  before  twelve, 
noon." 

Meldrum  here  consulted  his  watch,  with  manifest 
anxiety,  and  remarked,  "  It's  just  ten.  I  must  get 
back  to  the  hotel  to  write  some  letters  by  noon. 
Let's  take  our  luncheon  now." 

His  hungry  comrade  gladly  nodded  assent  and 
proceeded  to  divest  himself  of  the  little  covered 
basket  which  was  slim;.;  across  his  shoulder  like  a 
field-glass.  A  bottle  of  Yvorne,  a  half  chicken,  four 
hard  boiled  eggs,  a  loaf  of  black  bread,  and  a  thick 
slice  of  cheese,  proved  to  be  the  contents,  provided 
by  the  landlord  of  the  Hotel  des  Alpes,  which  was 
their  point  of  departure  for  the  excursion.  As  they 
ate  and  sipped,  they  could  not  refrain  from  casting 
occasional  glances  at  those  glittering  heights  far 
above  them,  on  which  the  awful  avalanche  was  pre- 
paring for  a  plunge  at  twelve  o'clock, sharp.  Mean- 
while, true  to  the  spirit  of  the  occasion,  their  ears 
and  eyes  were  ready  to  note  every  incident  that 
could  serve  further  to  identify  the  scene  with  that 
so  graphically  portrayed  in  the  poem. 

"  Behold  the  winged  and  cloud-cleaving  minister," 
cried  Meldrum,  pointing  with  a  fork,  tipped  with  a 
scrap  of  chicken,  to  a  bird  that  was  probably  a  crow 
instead  of  the  eagle  Manfred,  saw. 

"  And  hark  to  the  natural  music  of  the  mountain 
reed,"  exclaimed  Wad  low,  to  whose  sensitive  tym- 


ll'lTII   11YROX   O.V    Till-:  JL'\'GI-RALT.  177 

panum  was  borne  the  strain  of  the  distant  Alpine 
liorn  blown  by  a  bogus  shepherd — the  same  to 
whom  the  two  innocents  had  paid  tribute  on  their 
way  up. 

"  And  the  sweet  bells  of  the  sauntering  herd," 
added  Meld  rum,  who  had  no  difficulty  whatever  in 
hearing  their  melodious  jingle,  as  the  cows  them- 
selves were  only  a  little  distance  down  the  moun- 
tain, grazing  as  contentedly  and  placidly  as  if  in  the 
safest  depths  of  the  (jrintk.-lwald. 

"  Sagacious  animals,  cows,"  \Yadlow  hastened  to 
remark.  "  I  have  heard  that  their  wonderful  in- 
stinct, in  these  high  pastures  of  the  Alps,  always 
keeps  them  out  of  the  track  of  avalanches." 

"  Perhaps  we  had  better  join  them  then,"  said 
Meldrum,  who  could  not  wholly  quiet  his  apprehen- 
sions of  a  premature  loosening  of  the  great  sinning 
masses  of  snow  up  there,  without  reference  to 
Baedeker's  time-tables. 

"  Not  till  we  have  rehearsed  those  passages  that 
wrought  us  here,  Felix.  You  are  Manfred.  I  am 
;hc  chamois-hunter.  Here  is  the  brink  of  the  preci- 
pice. Yonder  is  the  '  roused  ocean  of  deep  hell,' 
l.vhich  I  must  say  is  rather  a  strong  expression  for  a 
ittle  fog  crawling  up  the  mountain  side.  Proceed." 
(n  his  ardor,  Wad  low  hurled  a  neatly  picked  leg  of 
i  chicken  at  the  head  of  his  bosom  friend,  who 
ocosely  retaliated  with  a  stony  crust  of  bread, 


17&  TllK  ENCHANTED. 

which  missed  its  mark  and  \vcnt  over  the  cliff  to  the 
fate  Manfred  had  coveted  for  himself. 

Meldrum  rose  to  his  feet.  Unaccustomed  as 
he  was  to  mountaineering,  the  climb  of  about  a 
thousand  feet  from  the  hotel  on  the  \Ycngcrn  Alp 
had  caused  a  stiffness  of  the  legs.  From  this  he 
obtained  transient  relief  by  executing  a  rudimentary 
pirouette — to  take  the  kinks  out  of  them— as  he 
explained.  Then  grasping  his  smooth,  new  alpen- 
stock', he  thrust  its  sharp,  burnished  point  into  a 
crevice  of  the  rock  and,  holding  on  tightly,  looked 
into  the  ravine  with  an  intrepidity  well  becoming 
his  part. 

"  I  wish  it  yawned  a  little  more,"  he  said,  in  allu- 
sion to  the  comparative  shallowness  of  Manfred's 
fitting  tomb,  "  though,  to  be  sure,  I  am  safer  as  it 
is." 

"  I'll  do  the  yawning,  while  you  are  reciting  the 
lines,  Felix." 

Meldrum  did  not  smile  at  this  ill-timed  jest,  be- 
cause lie  had  already  assumed  the  gloomy  demeanor 
appropriate  to  the  character  of  the  confirmed  man- 
hater.  It  was  no  easy  thing  to  quench  the  mirth  in 
his  eye  and  curve  his  lips  into  the  bow  of  despair,  but 
his  spirit  was  in  the  part  and  he  did  it.  As  he  stood 
there  with  one  hand  on  the  alpenstock  for  support, 
and  the  other  holding  a  161110  edition  of  Manfred,  his 
round,  ruddy  face  needed  to  be  lengthened  only  an 


;  II' J  Til  ItYKOX   O.V    THE  JUXGI-KA  t'.  I  79 

iich  or  two  and  bleached  with  midnight  vigils,  to 
eprescnt  the  woe-begone  visage  of  Byron's  hero. 
Ueldrum  was  familiar  with  that  theory  of  the 
.istrionic  art,  which  requires  the  actor  never  to  for- 
et  that  he  is  Jones  when  he  is  in  the  very  crisis 
nd  passion  of  Hamlet.  lie  had  great  respect  for 
::,  because  it  had  been  ratified  in  print  by  so  many 
tars  of  the  theater.  It  was  because  he  was  a  mere 
yro — not  rising  even  to  the  dignity  of  a  drawing- 
)om  amateur— that  he  at  once  lost  himself  hopc- 
:ssly  in  his  part.  Luckily  for  him,  there  was  no 
pectacled  critic  sitting  on  a  reserved  rock  immedi- 
tely  before  him  to  cut  him  up  in  the  next  morn- 
ig's  paper  because  he  had  merged  Meld  rum  into 
lanfred.  Beginning  with  the  melancholy  line, 
The  spirits  I  have  raised  abandon  me,"  it  would 
ave  been  apparent  to  the  only  human  observer, 
V'adlow  (had  not  the  speaker's  voice  reached  that 
cntleman  through  his  back),  that  the  genial  Mel- 
rum  was  thoroughly  loathing  himself  and  imparti- 
lly  extending  that  aversion  to  all  mankind.  The 
rofound  guttural  tones  in  which  he  opened  the 
:>liloquy  conveyed  the  same  idea  in  a  measure; 
ut,  as  this  soon  made  Mcldrum  hoarse,  he  was 
bligcd  to  abandon  it  and  go  on  in  his  natural 

iccents   at  a  higher  pitch.      But    what    the    voice 

. 
icked  in  expressiveness,  the  face  revealed.      Even 

Vadlow,  had  he  been  in  front  instead  of  reserving 


himself  in  the  rear,  as  the  coming  chamois-hunter, 
would  have  been  startled  by  the  God-forsaken, 
fiend-tormented  look  of  the  most  contented  and 
amiable  of  chums. 

As  Meldrum  pursued  his  passionate  declamation, 
sinking  himself  most  inartistically  deeper  and 
deeper  into  the  diabolical  individuality  of  Manfred, 
the  scene  before  him  gradually  accommodated  itself 
to  the  demands  of  the  lines,  lie  could  sec  the  tor- 
rent where  there  \vas  not  even  a  trout  brook,  and  tall 
pines  dwindled  as  to  shrubs  by  dix/iness  of  distance 
in  a  smooth  pasturage  not  three  hundred  feet  below 
him.  Another  crow  opportunely  stood-— or  rather 
flew — for  the  eagle  at  the  right  instant.  The  near- 
by cows  shook-  their  bells  \\hen  he  reached  the  mu- 
sical lines  relating  to  them.  The  Alpine  horn,  in- 
dustriously worked  at  a  stone's  throw  beneath  him, 
continued  to  be  heard  as  a  running  accompaniment 
through  the  whole  of  the  speech.  It  was  the 
shepherd's  pipe  in  excess,  and  was  the  only  over- 
done thine;  in  the  whole  performance.  The  con- 
cluding words,  "  which  made  me,"  were  the  cue 
for  Wadlow,  as  the  chamois-hunter,  suddenly  en- 
tering upon  the  scene.  Taking  his  innings,  that 
gentleman  recited  his  few  introductory  lines  with 
much  propriety,  and  was  sorry  when  they  ended 
just  as  he  was  warming  up  to  the  work'. 

Manfred   was  not  supposed   to   sec  him    or  hear 


1177 '//   /.'  )  'A'O.V   O.V    TJ/E  J  U. \GI-RA  U.  I S I 

vhat  ho  said,  but  Meldrum  obligingly  paused  till 
u's  friend  had  finished.  Then  he  resumed  his 
Kitroni/ing  observations  to  nature,  his  execration 
if  the  human  family,  and  his  impartial  damning 
if  himself  withal,  till  the  chamois-hunter  again 
ook  his  turn.  The  lines  given  to  this  character  by 
•Jyron  are  insignificant  until  the  dramatic  climax  is 
cached,  where  Manfred  winds  up  by  gathering 
n'mself  for  the  fatal  jump.  Wadlow  was  saving  up 
or  his  only  chance  -  the  rare  opportunity  offered 
>y  the  intending  suicide,  when  the  chamois-hunter 
grasps  Manfred  in  the  very  act  of  springing  from 
he  cliff  and  exclaims-  -"Hold,  madman!  though 
veary  of  this  life,  stain  not  our  pure  vales  with  thy 
;uilty  blood  !"  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

The    long-expected    cue    came   at    last.     "  Earth 

lake  these  atoms,"  cried  Meld  rum,  with  a  strikingly 

ealistic    movement,   as    if   to    dive   headlong    into 

i he     abyss.       If    he   had    been    in    good    earnest — 

.nd    it   looked    very  like    it,   so    absorbed  was     he 

n    the    personation — he   would    have  been    balked, 

o    strong  was    the    grip    suddenly   laid  upon    his 

:oat-collar — but     not    by    his    dearest    of      friends. 

v,Vadlow   cried    "  Hold     madman  !  "   all     right    with 

mmense  effect.       But    another  man,  who  had   sucl- 

lenly  appeared    upon   the   scene,   supplied   the  ac- 

ion,  and  that  second   man,  knowing  nothing  vvhat- 

:ver  of  the  part  he  was  arrogantly  meddling  with, 


i    2  THE   ENCHANTED. 

said  tranquilly,  "You  musn't  kill  yourself,  you 
know."  At  the  same  time  he  glanced  over  the 
edge  of  tlie  clifl,  and  added,  with  a  laugh,  "not 
much  of  a  jump,  anyhow." 

The  sudden  jerk"  on  his  collar  shook  Meldrum 
back"  to  his  real  self.  Far  from  being  aggrieved  by 
this  ruck:  interference  of  a  perfect  stranger,  he  at 
once  reali/ed  that  the  liberty  \\hich  had  been 
taken  with  his  person  was  a  spontaneous  and  sin- 
cere tribute  to  his  enactment  of  a  difficult  part 
which  he  may  be  said  to  have  created,  since 
it  has  never  been  put  upon  the  stage.  Sinking 
Manfred,  he  laughed  as  Meldrum,  and  was  about  to 
make  some  playful  remark  about  one  chamois-hunter 
too  man\",  when  \Yadlow  spoke'  up.  Nobody  had 
shaken  him  out  of  any  illusion.  He  was  still  the 
chamois-hunter  with  his  best  speech  to  come,  out 
of  which  he  had  been  cut  by  this  startling  appari- 
tion, lie  wanted  the  performance  to  proceed. 

"  If  you  know  the  lines,  go  ahead,"  said 
Wadlow  to  the  stranger,  with  forced  calmness. 
"  If  not,  give  me  a  show." 

"The    lines — what    do    you    mean?" 

"  My  dear  sir,"  explained  Meldrum,  interposing, 
"we  have  been  acting  a  little  piece  by  Byron,  with 
natural  scenery.  That's  all.  My  friend  only  wants 
to  know  whether  you  or  he  will  go  on  with  the 
part  of  the  chamois-hunter.  It's  all  the  same  to 


//'//'//  M'A'aV  O.Y    THE  JUXGFRAU.  1^3 

me,  now  that  my  life  is  saved.  But  we  can't  have 
two  chamois-hunters  at  once,  you  know.  Settle  it 
between  yourselves." 

"  I     always     liked      Byron's     pieces,"     said     the, 
-itranger.     "  What's  the  name  of  this  one?" 
"  Manfred." 

"I    never   heard   of  it.      It    does   not   seem   to  be 
/cry  funny,  like  his  other  pieces." 

"Like  his  other  pieces!"  echoed  Meldrum  and 
Wadlow  in  a  chorus  of  ama/ement,  as  the}-  recalled 
he  unrelieved  gloom  of  Cain,  Werner,  and  Manfred. 
"His  farces  and  extravagan/as,  you  know.  I 
hought  I  should  have-  died  laughing  at  his  '  Cml- 
leu  Gridiron'  at  I)rury  Lane,  l.ist  Boxing  night." 

By  this  time  it  had  dawned  upon  the  friends  that 
he  stranger's  Byron  and  their  own  were  two  dis- 
inct  persons;  the  latter  poet  of  that  distinguished 
ame  being  the  popular  playwright  who  happened 
o  be  the  only  Byron  known  as  a  dramatist  to 
hamois-hnnter  No.  2. 

There  is  no  leveler  of  English  class  distinctions 
lore  complete  than  a  Knickerbocker  suit.  As  the 
tranger  stood  before  them  for  his  full  length  por- 
irait,  clad  from  head  to  foot  in  the  costume  which 
.11  mountaineering  Englishmen  affect,  it  was  impos- 
ible  to  tell  whether  he  was  a  bank  clerk,  a  com- 
lercial  traveler,  an  Oxford  professor,  or  a  peer  of 
iie  realm.  Having  no  gun  strapped  to  his  back  or 


184  THE  ENCHANTED. 

cartridges  buckled  about  his  waist,  he  was  evidently 
not  in  pursuit  of  chamois,  and  that  discovery  de- 
prived him  of  his  only  interest  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Americans.  It  was  as  if  he  had  thrust  himself  into 
their  company  under  false  pretenses. 

])iit,  when  he  told  them,  the  next  minute,  that 
he  was  on  the  way  "up  there  "  (meaning  a  crag 
half  covered  with  snow,  two  thousand  feet  or  more 
above  them)  in  the  hope  of  picking  some  edelweiss 
with  his  own  hands  to  send  to  friends  in  London, 
the}'  felt  that  here  was  a  man  with  a  latent  capac- 
ity for  chamois-hunting  only  waiting  to  be  devel- 
oped by  circumstances.  I-'or  they  had  been  repeat- 
ed!)' assured,  down  in  the  valley,  by  men  having 
bunches  of  edelweiss  to  sell  at  a  franc  each,  that 
the  flower  can  be  gathered  ///  si/,1  only  by  the  most 
reckless  exposure  of  life  and  limb.  In  books  of 
travels — as  the)'  well  remembered — the  narrators 
invariably  pluck  their  edelweiss  on  the  sheer  slope 
of  precipices,  being  lowered  with  ropes  tied  round 
their  waists  by  trusted  companions  above.  Like 
Shakespeare's  samphire  gathering,  the  search  for 
the  velvety  plant  would  seem  to  be  indeed  a  dread- 
ful trade,  and  if  it  is  true  that  it  has  been  for 
these  many  years  privately  cultivated  to  perfection 
in  the  back  yards  of  every  Swiss  chalet,  humanity 
is  a  gainer  by  that  domestication  of  the  most  prized 
of  the  Alpine  flora. 


//•//'//    ATA'C.V   (>.V    TIIK  Jl'XGl-'RAU.  185 

"  'l\i,  ta!"  said  the  Englishman,  cheerily,  "I'm 
off,"  and  the  unknown  made  his  exit  as  sudden  as 
his  entrance.  It  was  characteristic  of  his  race  that 
he  had  expressed  no  surprise  at  the  selection  of 
that  particular  pi, ice  for  the  rehearsal  of  a  play. 
Had  he  come  upon  Meldrum  and  \Vadlow  in  the 
act  of  standing  on  their  he. ids,  he  would  have  been 
equally  passive  and  uninquisitivc. 

"  If  there  were    no    Alps    to    climb,   what    would 
these  plucky  Englishmen  do?" 
"  They  would  take  to  treadmills." 
The  idea  of  John  Hull  puffing  up  an  endless  stair- 
case solely  for  tlu.-  pleasure  of  surmounting  obsta- 
cles, struck  the  inventor  of  it  as  very  droll,  and   he 
laughed    noisily.      It   was   a   healthy,   happy   laugh; 
ibut  manifestly  out  of  place  on  an  occasion  solemnly 
set  apart   for  reviving  the  peculiar  set  of  emotions 
which  should   be    inspired   by  a  recital  of   Manfred 
I  in  the  shadow  of  the  Jungfrau. 

Respectable,     law-abiding     persons     themselves, 
'Meldrum  and  \Vadlow  had,  as  far  back  as  their  col- 
llcge  days,  conceived  a  strong  liking  for  the  charac- 
. ter  of  Manfred.     They  had  preserved  this  partiality 
during  their    after    life    in    New    York,    while    still 
maintaining  unblemished  reputations  amid  the  cru- 
cial tests  of  a  great  city.     They  would  never  con- 
fess it,  save  to  one  another ;  but,  at  times,  they  en- 
vied Manfred  his  haunting  memory  of  some  fright- 


iS6  yy/ //   ENCHANTED. 

ful,  inexpiable  crime.  Sleeping  their  regular  seven 
hours,  they  would  in  their  innocence  have  gladly 
exchanged  that  unbroken  .slumber  for  an  occasional 
night  of  harrowing  retrospection  and  remorse, — just 
to  see  how  it  felt.  Holding  evil  spirits  in  proper 
abhorrence,  they  would,  at  times,  have  dearly  loved 
to  raise  the  devil  and  order  him  about,  even  at  the 
fearful  price  which  must  always  be  paid  for  that 
privilege.  Thinking,  as  they  did,  pretty  well  of 
human  nature  on  the  whole,  there  were  moments 
when  they  both  heartily  wished  to  taste  the  forbid- 
den pleasures  of  thorough  misanthropy.  They 
were  prepared  to  understand  how  much  downright 
enjoyment  might  be  derived  from  implacably  hat- 
ing not  merely  individuals,  but  the  race  of  man  en- 
tire. It  had  always  seemed  to  them  that  the  half- 
breed  of  cynics  and  pessimists  they  had  known  in 
clubland  had  missed  the  full  measure  of  their  grati- 
fication by  not  including  everything  and  everybody 
in  their  sweeping  distrust  and  contempt,  instead  of 
now  and  then  speaking  tolerantly  of  persons  and 
events  here  and  there.  Now  to  Manfred's  misan- 
thropy there  were  no  weak  exceptions. 

Estimating  themselves  quite  cheaply,  frankly  ad- 
mitting that  they  were  in  truth  nobodies  in  the  im- 
mediate vicinity  of  snow  mountains  and  glaciers 
and  avalanches,  they  all  the  more  admired  Man- 
fred's lofty  disdainful  patronage  of  those  sublime 


n'A'u.v  u.\  /'//A  /r.\<;/-A'./r.         187 

and  terrific  phenomena.  It  is  all  very  well  to 
preach  about  Alan's  supremacy  over  Nature,  and 
the  incalculable  greatness  of  the  human  soul,  even 
when  contrasted  with  the  most  stupendous  machin- 
ery of  the  universe  ;  but  it  requires  the  boundless 
egotism  and  audacity  of  a  Manfred  to  assert  one's 
self  on  a  spur  of  the  Jungfrau. 

For  all  these  reasons  it  was  Manfred,  even  more 
than  the  peerless  mountain  itself,  which  had  drawn 
them  to  Interlaken,  and  up  the  \Vengern  Alp,  and 
to  the  particular  spot  where  they  were  now  reclin- 
ing. There  the}'  were  unconsciously  bearing  new 
testimony  to  the  power  of  that  enchantment  which 
had  yielded  them  a  greater  pleasure  than  any  other 
afforded  by  their  Swiss  tour.  Byron,  the  en- 
chanter, was  giving  them  their  finest  pleasure 
among  the  Alps. 


CIIAITKK  XV. 


MRS.    (ikKATI-IlM  l>    AGAIN    I  KKI.S    HICK    MINI). 

Till-;  sun  had  been  steadily  mounting  the  sky  and 
his  heat  increasing,  while  the}'  were  regaling  them- 
selves upon  Byronic  impressions  of  the  Jungfrau. 

"  I  think,"  said  Meldrum,  "  that  the  avalanches, 
now  about  due,  can  be  seen  much  better  from  the 
hotel."  Wadlow  was  of  the  same  opinion. 

They  therefore  began  their  descent,  which  was 
not  difficult,  as  the}'  had  only  to  follow  the  easy- 
sloping,  zig/.ag  cowpaths  which  generations  of 
intelligent  herds  had  trodden. 

"  One  of  the  advantages  of  not  going  very  far  up 
a  mountain,"  remarked  Meldrum,  philosophically, 
"  is  the  corresponding  shortness  of  the  distance 
clown." 

They  were  in  a  state  of  complete  self-satisfaction 
when  they  reached  the  hotel.  If  they  had  experi- 
enced some  fatigue  from  the  morning's  little  adven- 
ture, they  were  content  to  have  paid  that  price  for 
it.  Secure  beyond  question  from  the  destructive 
sweep  of  the  most  formidable  avalanche,  they  were 
now  prepared  to  behold  that  phenomenon  with 

iSS 


entire  composure',  ami  were  as  anxious  fur  it  to 
begin  as  the}-  had  been  to  have  it  postponed  an 
hour  before.  Their  suspense  was  not  for  long. 
The  vertical  rays  of  the  sun  performed  their 
appointed  work  with  unfailing  punctuality  and 
certainty.  If  the  Jungfrau  had  been  under  written 
contract  with  the  hotel  men  on  the  Wcngcrn  Alp 
ami  the  Murrcn,  the  two  observatories  provided  by 
nature  for  the  safe  witnessing  of  the  spectacle,  the 
agreement  to  furnish  avalanches  with  neatness  and 
dispatch  could  not  have  been  more  faithfully  kept. 

The  snow  and  ice  had    be^an  to  move  in  their  old 
well-worn   grooves  from  point.-,  far  up  the  mountain 
i  side,  and  Meldruin   and  \VadIow  were   watching  the 
shining  cascades  with  breathless  interest,  \\hen  their 
attention  was  suddenly  called  off    from  the  magnifi- 
cent   exhibition   by  the  appearance  of  two   human 
beings  directly  in    front  of  them.     As  the   morning 
:  had  been   exceptionally  fine,  great   numbers  of  peo- 
ple    had    improved     the     occasion     to     ascend    the 
\Yengern  Alp  on   foot  or  on   horseback',  or  borne  in 
chairs    slung  between    poles  ;    and    none    of    these, 
though  making  quite  a  crowd  and   incessantly  chat- 
t  tering    in    English,   French,  and   German,   had    dis- 
;  turbed  the  two   friends  in  their  sweet  fit  of  abstrac- 
;  tion.      They    could  shut  their  eyes    to  every  sight 
but  the   flash  of  the   avalanches,  and  their   ears  to 
every  sound  but  the  low   rumble  of  their  fall.     But 


lyO  7 '//A     /-;.\r//./.V /•/•;/>. 

here  no\v  was  a  sight  and  here  was  a  sound  that 
broke  in,  and  not  unpleasantly,  on  their  close  com- 
munion with  Nature. 

The  sound  was  that  of  well-remembered  female 
voices.  The  speakers  were  the  ladies  the}'  had  met 
at  Kenilworth  and  Coventry.  They  had  just 
alighted  from  chairs,  and  were  standing  within  ten 
feet  of  them  and  giving  orders  to  the  sturdy  porters, 
t\vo  of  whom  (the  bearers  of  the  stouter  lad}1) 
were  blovvsy  and  red  from  their  great  exertions. 

Meldrum  and  \Yadlow  rose  to  their  feet  and,  if 
the}'  were  for  one  moment  undecided  about  advanc- 
ing and  offering  their  assistance  to  their  country- 
women, the}-  were  put  entirely  at  ease  by  Mrs. 
Greatfield.  As  her  bright  eyes  fell  upon  them,  she 
smiled  so  cordially  that  they  stepped  forward  and 
offered  their  hands  without  an}-  fear  of  a  rebuff. 
Miss  Robison,  with  hardly  less  readiness,  met  them 
half-way.  Surely,  if  punctilio  may  be  waived  and 
formal  introductions  dispensed  with  anywhere,  it  is 
amid  the  hurly  burly  of  a  Swiss  inn,  where  people 
of  the  same  nationality  (unless  they  are  New 
Yorkers  or  Boston  ians)  seen  impelled  to  form  groups 
in  self-defense  against  the  rest.  If  two  of  these 
people  happen  to  be  male  and  two  female — and  all 
unmarried — that  tendency  is  very  marked,  indeed. 

No  courier  or  maid  being  visible,  Meldrum 
officiously  charged  himself  with  carrying  the 


J/A'.V.    C.REATl'IEl.D  i-REES  HER  M/.\'J).  191 

widow's  little  load  of  shawls  and  wraps,  hand-bag 
and  umbrella  ;  and  Wadlow  took  the  same  liberty 
with  the  personal  effects  of  the  other  lady. 

"  The  idea  of  sensible  Americans  coming  all  the 
way  over  here  to  see  Jungfraus,  when  they  have 
bigger  mountains  at  home,"  said  the  widow,  laugh- 
ing. "  I  want  it  distinctly  understood  that  I  am 
here  to  oblige  Jicr.  Shasta  and  Tacoma  are  good 
enough  for  me." 

"  But  they  have  no  history— no  poetical  associa- 
tions, Carrie.  That  makes  the  difference,"  said 
Miss  Robison,  evidently  employ  ing  arguments  which 
she  had  used  before  with  her  vivacious  friend. 

"  Nonsense  !     They   have   all  the    history  there  is. 

Aren't  they  as   old   as   the  Jungfrau  ?     And   as   for 

>oetry,  there  have  been  plenty  of  pieces  in  the  Cali- 

ornia  papers  about  them.      I    was   born    out   there 

ind  ought  to  know." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  Shasta  ?  "  asked  the  widow, 
iiddressing  the  two  gentlemen. 

They  shook  their  heads  regretfully. 

"  Nor  Tacoma  ?  " 

They  were  obliged  to  say  "  No  ;  "  but  earnestly 
expressed  their  desire  of  seeing  both  mountains 
i;ome  time. 

"Ah  !  You'll  like  them,  because  they  are  so  easy 
o  do.  They  are  just  made  for  Americans.  You 
lon't  have  to  be  carried  up  any  Wengcrn  Alps  in 


\(J2  THE    /-.\  •(•// 

an  did  chair  by  two  men  to  see  the  whole  of 
Shasta.  You  sit  in  your  Pullman  car  and  have  it 
in  view  all  da}'." 

''And  Tacoma? "  queried  Meldrum,  who  appre- 
ciated mountains  maile  eas}'. 

"  The}-  have  a  first-class  hotel  expressly  built  for 
Tac"ina,  with  tw<>  hundred  rocking-chairs  on  the 
pia/./.a.  You  secure  one  of  these  fur  the  day  and 
there  you  sit  and  watch  the  mountain.  It's  about 
three  miles  up  in  the  air----all  fr»m  the  sea  level,  too. 
You  don't  have  to  knock  off  half  a  mile  to  bei>in 

O 

with,  as  vi  Hi  di  >  heiv.      1  1  a,  ha  !  ' 

Meldrum  and  \Vadl<iw  signified  their  gratification 
at  these  statements  by  nods  and  smiles,  Mrs. 
Greatfield's  eloquence  in  defense  of  her  native 
mountains  not  alfording  a  gap  for  an}'  words  but 
her  o\vn.  At  this  stage  of  the  conversation — or 
monologue — the  part}'  had  reached  the  bureau  of 
the  little  inn,  and  the  ladies  were  shown  to  the 
room  which  had  been  engaged  for  them  by  tele- 
graph from  Interlaken. 

The  gentlemen  resumed  their  seats  in  the  open 
air  and  their  attention  to  the  Jungfrau.  The 
avalanches  were  now  in  full  play  of  noon-tide, 
and  were  declared  by  an  observer  no  less  veteran 
than  the  portly  landlord,  to  be  grand  beyond  prece- 
dent. But  they  found  in  Meldrum  and  Wadlow 
only  listless  spectators  of  their  grandeur. 


J//i'.V.   GKF.ATFIELD  FREES  HER  MIXD,          193 

Desirous  as  the}-  were  to  surrender  themselves 
wholly  to  the  contemplation  of  the  Oueen  of  Moun- 
tains and  the  pageantry  of  her  court,  their  truant 
minds  would  wander  off  to  the  ladies  into  whose 
company  a  bountiful  1'rovidencc  had  thrown  them 
for  the  third  time.  A  good  idea  occurred  to  Mel- 
drum,  and  lie  acted  on  it  with  the  quickness  that  it 
deserved.  Calling  a  waiter,  lie  ordered  a  light 
luncheon  for  himself  and  friend,  and  giving  the  man 
an  impressive  tip,  told  him  to  reserve  the  adjoining 
table  for  two  ladies,  who  would  soon  appear,  and  to 
show  them  to  it  as  the  only  one  at  their  disposal, 
lie  was  confident  that  Mrs.  Greatfield,  being  free 
from  that  "nonsense"  from  which  widows,  as  a 
class,  are  supposed  to  be  exempt,  would  make  no 
disguise  of  the  sharp  appetite  which  the  mountain 
air  must  have  engendered,  and  would  demand  a 
substantial  meal  at  the  earliest  moment.  His  ex- 
pectations were  well  founded.  In  about  ten  min- 
utes the  ladies  reappeared,  and  Mrs.  Greatfield,  with 
hunger  stamped  on  every  feature,  cast  her  eyes  up 
and  down  the  rows  of  cleanly-napkined  tables,  made 
I  further  enticing  by  bright  services  of  glass,  porcelain 
and  cutlery.  The  bribed  waiter  advanced  to  their 
aid  and  led  them  quite  peremptorily  to  the  table 
reserved  for  them  by  the  designing  Meldrum.  If 
the  widow  and  her  friend  suspected  the  intention  of 
this  seemingly  accidental  arrangement,  they  be- 


1Q4  THE   ENCHANTED, 

trnyed  their  suspicion  by  no  sign.  They  apparently 
accepted  it  as  fortuitous  and  the  gentlemen  were 
put  entirely  at  their  case  by  being  accosted  first. 

"  Did  you  ever  read  .Byron/"  asked  the  widow, 
archly. 

Mcldrum  and  \Yadlo\v  hastened  to  assure  her  that 
the}'  had  read  the  works  of  the  noble  bard  in  their 
younger  days. 

"  S/tty  bought   it  at   Intcrlaken,  and    lierc  it    is" 
producing    from   a  little   bag    a    miniature    volume, 
which   \VadIo\v   received    from  her  hand.      Glancing 
over  it  hastily  the  friends  perceived   that  it   was  an 
unabridged  edit  ion. 

"1  bought  it  on  account  of  Manfred,"  explained 
Miss  Robisou,  with  a  show  of  color.  "  The  guide 
book's  quote  from  it  in  connection  with  their  de- 
scription of  the  Staubbach  Fall  and  the  Jungfrau. 
Reading  the  poem  has  heightened  my  enjoyment  of 
the  splendid  scenery  of  the  Alps." 

The  gentlemen  were  greatly  pleased  to  find  in 
this  young  lady  a  taste  for  the  sublime  in  nature 
and  poetry  akin  to  their  own,  and  what  was  more,  a 
frankness  to  confess  that  she  had  read  Manfred, 
without  conventionally  adding  that  Byron  must 
have  been  a  monster  to  have  written  it.  They  vol- 
ubly assured  her  that  their  own  liking  for  Manfred 
was  so  great  that  they  had  paid  a  morning  visit  to 
the  Jungfrau  expressly  to  verify  the  magnificent 


JM'.V.   GREATFIELD  FKEKS  HER  J//.VA  1 95 

mageiy  of  the  poem  and  to  enter  as  far  as  possible 
nto  the  feelings  of  Manfred  himself. 

While  these  explanations  \vere  progressing,  Mrs. 
iivat  field  had  carefully  ordered  a  generous  lunch- 
•on,  and  now  turned  to  take  her  part  in  the  conver- 
;ation. 

"  I've  read  Manfred,  too,"  said  the  widow, 
miling,  ''to  oblige  IUT.  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I 
hink  about  it  ?  " 

The  gentlemen  declared  that  nothing  would  give 
hem  greater  pleasure. 

"  It  was  written  to  spite  1>\ Ton's  wife.  Anybody 
:an  see  that  after  read  in;.;"  the  life  of  Byron  in  this 
mok.  Though  the}-  had  separated,  he  knew  she 
vould  read  ever}'  line  of  poetry  he  printed  to  see  if 
le  said  anything  about  her.  How  he  must  have 
eased  her  with  that  Astartc !  It's  too  absurd, 
la,  ha!" 

"  Teased  her  ?"  asked  Wadlow,  not  quite  catch- 
-ns  the  idea. 

"Yes.  Don't  3-011  know  in  the  poem,  whenever 
he  lad)'  Astarte  is  introduced  there  is  alwa3rs  a 
>reak  just  when  the  sto^  becomes  interesting, 
foil  think  3-011  are  going  to  find  out  what  had  hap- 
pened to  her,  and  3-011  run  against  one  of  those 
[lashes  which  are  so  dreadfully  provoking  in  novels. 
f  we  arc  all  curious  to  know  what  Manfred  had 
lone  to  Astarte,  how  much  more  curious  Lady 


I96  THE  ENCHANTED. 

l>vron  must  have  been?     I   can   imagine  her  eoin<r 

o  t> 

crazy  over  the  puzzle." 

"Who,  in  your  opinion,  was  Astarte?"  asked 
Mcldrtim,  whose  mind  liatl  been  reopening  the 
controversy  which  raged  over  that  (question  sonic 
years  ago. 

'I  he  widow  distended  her  blue  eyes  as  if  amazed 
at  the  simplicity  of  the  question. 

lt\\hy  Astarte  was  ---nobody.  A  man  \vho  could 
iiuent  demons  and  witches  could  make  Astartes  in 
an\"  quantity.  There  is  a  large  assortment  of  them 
in  these  pages.  I  have  been  looking  through  the 
\\  hole  bo<  ik,  you  see." 

"And  were  all  Byron's  heroines  invented  t>> 
.'in no}"  his  wife.'  After  they  had  separated,  I 
mean." 

"  Kvery  one  of  them,"  said  the  widow,  triumph- 
antly. Then,  with  a  touch  of  compassion  in  her 
voice,  "  It's  a  real  pit}-  that  a  man  with  such  a 
heart  should  have  been  thrown  away  by  Lady 
Byron.  A  husband  like  that  is  a  scarce  article  in 
this  cold  world." 

Miss  Robison  bowed  her  head  gently  in  approval 
of  the  proposition.  It  was  evident  that  the  poet 
had  these  two  ladies  on  his  side.  Wadlow  took  up 
the  examination  of  the  witness,  whom  the  shade  of 
Byron  had  summoned  as  an  expert  in  his  defense 
that  day. 


.l/A'.V.    GKEATI'IRLD  FKJ-.I-'.S  HER  M1XD.  197 

"  Do  you  think  that  Byron   still  loved   his  wife, 
when  he  wrote  Manfred?" 

"  His  heart  was  just  breaking  for  her.  If  it  had 
lot  been,  do  you  suppose  he  would  have  tried  to 
nake  her  jealous  and  unhappy  by  bragging  about  his 
iff  airs  with  the  Astartcs  and  all  the  rest  of  them?" 
Miss  Robison's  mild  brown  eyes  seconded  this 
question. 

"  Then  you  are  of  the  opinion  that  the  blame  of 
heir  continued  separation  rested  with  Lady  Byron 
ilonc?" 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  She  had  only  to  whistle  to 
lim  and  he  would  have  come  back  to  her.  If  she 
iad  cared  a  bit  for  the  man,  she  could  have  brought 
.im  to  her  feet.  Oh!  so  easily,  after  Manfred  was 
printed." 

"How?"  asked  \Vadlo\v,  with  much  earnestness, 
•>r  he  had  always  assumed  that  that  poem  had 
iffectually  closed  the  door  of  reconciliation  against 
5yron. 

"  She  should  have  worked  a  nice  muffler,  and  a 
air  of  good  warm  mittens  with  her  own  hands,  and 
:nt  them  to  him  with  a  little  note  asking  him  to 
•ear  them  for  her  sake  the  next  time  he  went  up 
n  the  Jungfrau.  Nothing  goes  further  with  a  hus- 
tand,  as  every  married  man  knows,  than  a  present 
f  her  own  worsted  work  from  his  wife.  She  is  so 
snerally  doing  it  for  somebody  else,  you  sec." 


EXCllAXTED. 

Wadlow  and  Mcldruin  accepted  this  dictum  as  a 
valuable  addition  to  their  stock  of  useful  knowl- 
edge. 

"  There  was  another  way,"  continued  the  willing 
witness.  "  Lad}-  Byron  could  have  made  every- 
thing pleasant  between  them  by  expressing  some 
sympathy  for  his  liver  complaint." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  anything  was  the  matter 
with  Byron's  liver,"  said  Wadlow,  wondering  where 
the  widow  had  discovered  a  fact  unknown  to  the 
poet's  numerous  biographers. 

"  Nor  I  either,"  was  the  laughing  rejoinder- 
"  Hut  I  am  sure  Byron  would  have  been  delighted 
if  she  had  thought  so.  If  a  man  is  nervous,  irri- 
table, quarrelsome;  if  he  says  he  has  lost  all  his 
friends  and  wishes  he  was  dead  -  and  that  is  the 
kind  of  man  Byron  seems  to  have  been  at  times — 
yon  just  tell  him  that  his  liver  is  out  of  order  and 
see  how  his  face  will  light  up  with  pleasure." 

Wadlow  promised  her  he  would  make  the  experi- 
ment at  the  first  opportunity. 

"  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about,"  said  the  widow, 
with  increasing  animation.  "  I  hail  a  friend  in  Min- 
neapolis, whose  husband  was  a  good-hearted  man 
with  a  dreadful  temper.  \Vhen  anything  went 
wrong  with  his  business  lie  was  a  perfect  bear  round 
the  house,  lie  would  nag  and  scold  her  at  the 
least  thing.  When  he  was  very  much  excited,  if 


MKS.   GKEATFIELD  FREES  HER  MIX  I).          199 

she  opposed  him  in  anything,  ever  so  little,  he  would 
smash  the  furniture  ;  and  once  he  pulled  off  the 
tablecloth  with  all  the  breakfast  things." 

"  An  uncomfortable  husband,"  remarked  Mel- 
drum. 

"  And  yet  that  same  man  could  be  quieted  down 
by  his  wife  in  a  minute,  and  made  to  apologize,  and 
the  row  always  ended  by  his  presenting  her  with  a 
new  dress  or  a  set  of  diamonds  or  furs,  and  once 
she  got  a  beautiful  landau  and  a  pair  of  bobtailed 
horses  out  of  him,  with  a  real  English  coachman 
thrown  in." 

"  Wonderful !  "  cried  Wadlow.  "  It  beats  the  lady 
lion  tamer  out  of  sight." 

"  Nothing  was  easier,"  said  the  widow,  who  could 

not   have   told    the   story  with   greater   pride  in  the 

achievement  had  she  been  herself  the  subduer  of  the 

i ferocious   husband.     ''  When    he  was  tearing  round 

and  breaking  things  she  would  keep  perfectly  cool, 

and  say  as  sweetly  as  I   do   now  :  '  I  am   so  sorry 

about    your  liver,  dear.     You   must   take   a  pill  to- 

j light.'      lie  would  quiet  down   in  a  jiffy.     You  see 

t  flattered  him  to  think  that  she  did  not  blame  him, 

nut  his  liver  ;  that  he  was  all  right  and  his  liver  was 

ill  wrong.     It  was  like   throwing  the  responsibility 

or  his  acts  on  somebody  else.     Every  Christmas  she 

ised  to  present  him  with  a  new  liver  pad." 

"  Did  it  cure  him  ?  "  asked  Mcldrum. 


200  TV/A'   ENCHANTED. 

"  Oh,  no,"  was  the  response.  "  Pads,  plasters, 
pills — she  tried  everything  that  was  advertised,  on 
him  --never  cured  him  of  his  liver  complaint,  be- 
cause, between  you  and  me  (this  in  a  sunken  voice, 
as  if  in  strict  confidence)  there  was  nothing  really 
the  matter  with  his  liver.  It  \vas  the  man's  horrible 
temper  all  the  time,  but  she  did  not  mind  that  when 
she  found  out  ho\v  to  manage  him.  lie  was  so  good 
after  these  fits  that  she  used  to  like  to  sec  them 
coming  on.  1  la,  ha  ! 

''And  you  really  think  that  Lady  Byron  could 
have  managed  her  husband  in  the  same  way?" 

''  I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

It  was  not  for  the  male  listeners  to  controvert  the 
opinion  of  a  lad}'  apparently  so  well  qualified  to 
judge  of  the  complicated  relations  of  the  sexes  in 
I'inculo  watrimonii.  They  were  reduced  to  silence 
in  the  presence  of  so  much  practical  wisdom,  and, 
for  a  little  space,  all  four  confined  themselves  to  the 
demolition  of  the  neglected  luncheons. 

Then  Wadlow  bethought  himself  of  the  irrepress- 
ible contention  between  the  cities  of  Minneapolis 
and  St.  1'aul,  of  which  the  two  ladies  were  respect- 
ively the  able  champions,  and  he  roguishly  ventured 
the  observation,  "  I  suppose  now  there  is  no  such 
bear  of  a  husband  in  St.  Paul." 

The  widow  and  Miss  Robison  recognized  the  play- 
ful allusion  to  their  chronic  cause  of  disputation  and 


laughed  heartily.  The  younger  only  said,  "  I  am 
sure  I  don't  know,"  as  indeed,  how  should  she,  with 
her  inexperience  of  those  marital  tempests  which 
rarely  blow  when  a  third  person  is  around.  Mrs. 
Greatfield  thus  spoke  :  "If  you  expect  me,  just  be- 
cause I  live  in  Minneapolis,  to  declare  that  St.  Paul 
is  full  of  quarrelsome  husbands,  you  are  much 
mistaken,  I  can  tell  you.  ITc  liai'c  buried  the 
katclift." 

iMeldrum  ami  \VadIow  both  murmured  their 
pleasure  at  the  return  of  peace,  and  hoped  it  would 
be  lasting. 

"This  is  how  it  happened,"  continued  the  widow. 
"  The  peace  dates  from  the  receipt  of  a  letter  by  me 
from  Minneapolis  yesterday.  It  seems  that  there 
was  a  la  rye  debt  owing  the  estate,  and  covered  by  a 
mortgage  on  unimproved  land  within  the  city  limits 
of  St.  Paul.  This  land  has  been  sold  under  fore- 
closure, and  bought  in  by  the  estate.  Don't  you 
see,  that  makes  me  interested  in  St.  Paul  as  well  as 
Minneapolis,  and  I  am  blowing  for  both  cities  now. 
Ha,  ha!" 

Meldrum  and  Wadlow  could  do  no  less  than  con- 
gratulate St.  Paul  on  the  acquisition  of  so  powerful 
an  ally.  They  also  appreciated  the  delicacy  with 
which  the  widow  alluded  to  "the  estate,"  meaning 
herself,  and  the  charming  naivctd  of  her  assumption 
that  they  necessarily  knew  who  she  was,  so  fully 


202  Till:   ENCHANTED. 

were  her  movements  paragraphed  in  the  society 
journals  of  European  capitals  and  watering-places. 

A  faithful  report  of  whatever  conversation  ensued 
is  not  within  the  scope  of  this  brief  chronicle.  But 
it  is  certain  that  when  the  little  improvised  party 
broke  up  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  ladies  con- 
tinued their  journey  by  chair  toward  Grindclwald 
and  the  gentlemen  remounted  their  mules  and 
headed  for  Interlaken,  there  was  a  unanimous  wish 
in  the  breasts  of  the  four  persons  that  they  might 
all  meet  again  somewhere.  And  yet,  such  is  Ihe  re- 
serve of  the  human  heart  in  the  treatment  of  its 
warmest  promptings,  that  the  couples  went  their 
different  ways  without  a  single  word  about  a  pos- 
sible reunion. 

Will  they  meet  again  ?  As  the  elder  novelists 
used  to  say,  "  Time  will  show." 


C II  APT  MR   XVI. 

WITH    HAWTHORNE     IN    STATIC    STRKICT,    I;OST<>N. 

()N  their  voyage  homeward,  Mcldrum  aiul  \Vad- 
lo\v  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  fresh-lipped,  blue- 
eyed,  agreeable  young  Bostonian,  named  Finch. 
lie  was  much  interested  in  the  accounts  of  their 
visits  to  places  over  which  the  spell  of  enchantment 
had  been  thrown  by  the  great  poets  and  novelists. 
He  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  test,  in  their  com- 
pany, his  own  capacity  for  reproducing  to  the  eye 
scenes  and  occurrences  selected  from  the  writings  of 
fimous  American  authors.  Meklruin  and  Wad  low 
seriously  questioned  the  fitness  of  this  amiable  per- 
son for  sharing  the  pleasure  which  they  had  fortu- 
nately brought  within  their  own  reach. 

To  yield  to  an  enchanter  implies,  first  of  all 
things,  not  only  the  passive  readiness,  but  also  the 
anxiety  to  be  enchanted.  The  caviling,  or  fault- 
finding mood,  is  fatally  hostile  to  that  mental  atti- 
tude which  is  indispensable  to  success  in  the  line  of 
experiments  they  had  made.  Now,  Finch,  having 
passed  directly  from  college  to  an  important  posi- 
tion in  a  long-established  private  classical  school  of 
Boston,  had  become  by  virtue  of  his  university 

203 


204  THE   ENCHANTED, 

course  and  his  professional  career  a  confirmed,  fastidi- 
ous, well-meaning,  but  highly  intolerant  critic.  The 
hypercritical  spirit  which  he  had  acquired  at  college 
might  have  been  knocked  out  of  him  by  a  few  years 
of  roughing  with  his  equals  or  superiors,  who  had 
themselves  outlived  its  depressing  influences.  But 
his  immediate  transition  from  the  prejudices  and 
narrowness  of  the  academic  life  to  the  chair  of  Yice- 
1'rincipal  in  a  young  gentleman's  seminar}",  left  him 
no  time  or  opportunity  to  be  cured  of  the  besetting 
weakness  which  lie  honestly  supposed  to  be  his 
strength. 

To  the  older,  wiser,  liberal-minded  and  tolerant 
Meldrum  and  \Vadlow,  it  was  a  cause  of  regret  that 
a  fellow,  as  pleasant  in  man}'  ways  as  Finch,  should 
be  possessed  of  this  devil  of  depreciation  — this  mor- 
bid propensity  for  fastening  on  the  deficiencies,  the 
shortcomings,  the  limitations  of  ever}-  work  of 
genius  that  could  be  named,  without  any  recog- 
nition whatever  of  its  merits,  however  supreme  and 
undeniable.  Thus,  if  Thackeray  were  under  discus- 
sion, Finch  would  say,  "  He  is  too  cynical."  If  one 
praised  Dickens's  humor,  Finch  would  add,  "  But  he 
could  not  draw  a  gentleman."  He  considered  Scott 
"diffuse  and  prolix,"  Bulwer  and  Disraeli  "stilted 
and  affected,"  Macaulay  "  rhetorical,"  Carlyle  "  mali- 
cious," Motley  "  sweetly  monotonous,"  Ruskin 
"  fanciful,"  and  that  was  all  he  had  to  say  about 


//V/7/   UAWTUOKXL    l.\   liOSTOX.  -05 

them.  In  his  opinion  Shelley  was  a  "  rhapsodist," 
l>rowning  "  obscure,"  Tennyson  "  addicted  to 
"mannerism,"  Gray  "conventional,"  I5yron  a  "  mon- 
ster of  egotism,"  Swinburne  and  Whitman  "  beastly," 
Emerson  "  deficient  in  logic  and  connectedness," 
Longfellow  "slipshod  and  superficial."  It  was  not 
possible  to  mention  to  Finch  a  single  eminent 
writer  of  prose  or  poetry  that  ever  lived,  without 
provoking  from  him  an  in-.l.mt  softly-spoken  refer- 
ence to  the  presence  of  some  defect  in  the  mind  or 
heart  of  that  author,  usually  with  an  apt  citation  to 
prove  it.  I '"or  Finch  was  a  rapid  and  omnivorous 
reader,  and  his  eye  was  quick  to  catch,  and  his 
memory  was  tenacious  to  retain,  errors  of  statement, 
lame  reasonings,  wrong  conclusions,  and  verbal  in- 
accuracies and  inelegancies  of  every  description. 
Doubtless,  he  could  have  recalled,  with  the  same 
ease  and  precision,  the  "  beauties "  of  these  same 
authors,  but  he  never  did  so.  Yet  he  thought  it 

,  within  his  power  to  share  with  Meldrum  and  Wad- 
low  their  keen  enjoyment  of  something  which  de- 
pended absolutely  on  the  absence  of  the  overbalanc- 
ing critical  faculty  in  the  participant.  They  told 
him  that  he  was  asking  for  impossibilities;  since  it 

i  was  evident  that  he  would  not  surrender  himself  un- 

•  reservedly  to  any  human  enchanter. 

Finch  laughed,  and   admitted  that   he   feared   it 

j  was  so,  though  his  manner  was  that  of  pride  in  the 


2o6 

possession  of  ;i  mind  steeled  against  the  wiles  to 
which  weaker  persons  succumbed. 

"  Name  the  man,  the  place,  and  the  time,"  said 
Meldnun  to  him  one  morning,  as  the}-  were  pacing 
the  deck  before  breakfast.  lie  was  referring  to  the 
oft-discussed  suggestion  of  an  experiment  in  which 
Finch  might  take  part  as  a  novice  ami  test,  once  for 
all,  his  qualifications  for  the  performance  of  the 
special  teat  in  which  his  two  new  fiiv  nds  excelled. 

Finch's  response  was  instantaneous.  "  1  name 
1  lawlhorne  as  the  author.  The  place  shall  be  the 
open  paved  space  before  the  old  State  House, 
Hoston.  The  time  shall  be  within  a  month  of  our 
landing-  -say,  November  the  first.'' 

"  I  understand,"  replied  Meld  rum,  who  knew  his 
Hawthorne  thoroughly.  "You  would  conjure  up 
the  most  impressive  and  thrilling  scene  in  the 
'Scarlet  Letter,'  where  Rev.  ]\Ir.  Dimmesdale  takes 
Hester  Prynne  by  one  hand  and  little  Pearl  by  the 
other  and  leads  them  up  the  steps  of  the  pillory  in 
front  of  the  old  First  Church,  and  there  confesses 
his  sin  to  the  whole  people." 

"You  have  said  it.  If  I  can  see  anything,  I 
ought  to  be  able  to  see  that;  for  nothing  more 
dramatic  and  impressive  was  ever  penned  by  mortal 
hand.  It  acts  itself  for  you  on  the  printed  page." 

"Quite  true.  In  my  humble  opinion,  the  "  Scar- 
let Letter  "  is  the  most  original  and  powerful  work 


//V/'//    II A  \VTUOR.\E    L\   HOXTOX.  207 

of  fiction  yet  produced  in  America,  and  the  twenty- 
third  chapter  is  its  masterly  culmination.  But 
have  you  no  fault  to  pick  with  Hawthorne?"  con- 
tinued Meldrum,  quizzically,  remembering  that  that 

•  illustrious  name  had   not  been   drained   into  any  of 
their  numerous  discussions  of  books  and  authors. 

"  Oh,  none  whatever!  He  is  one  of  my  greatest 
favorites.  Kxcept,  perhaps,"  he  could  not  refrain 
from  adding,  "  th.it  he  lacks  humor." 

Meldrum  laughed.  "  1  )o  you  think  that  the 
'Scarlet  Letter'  would  have  be^n  improved  by  a 
comic  character?  Would  you  have  planted  a 
funny  man  down  there  in  the  crowd  before  the  pil- 
lory to  crack  his  jokes  while  that  terrible  scene  of 
remorse  and  self-expiation  was  in  progress  ?"  Mel- 
drum was  fond  of  putting  his  suppositions  strong!}'. 

Wadlow  here  jumped  into  the  debate  to  reinforce 
his  chum,  before  Finch  could  formulate  a  reply. 
"  It  is  true  that  the  '  Scarlet  Letter  '  is  devoid  of 
;  what  we  call  humor,  not  because,  in  my  opinion, 
Hawthorne  was  deficient  in  humor,  but  because  he 
thought  it  incongruous  with  the  prevailing  deeply 

•  somber  tone  of   the  story.     But   the  introduction, 
i  entitled  '  the  Custom  House,' which  naturally  leads 
i  up  to  the  tale,  if  it  is  not  essential  to  it,  has  a  pure 
1   vein  of  fun  worthy  of  Irving  or  Dickens." 

Meldrum  here  struck  in  with  the  remark  that  if 
the  "Scarlet  Letter"  contained  no  rollicking 


humorous  character,  there  was  something  better  in 

it.     That   was    the   elfish,  tricksy,   willful,    charmiiv 

<f  ft 

little  Pearl,  who  danced  through  its  darkness  like  a 
sunbeam.  As  an  artistic  foil,  she  was  a  Shake- 
spearian creation.  "The  joviality  which  provokes  a 
downright  laugh,  if  that  is  what  you  mean," — said 
Meldrum  in  conclusion,  "  I  should  consider  as  much 
out  of  place  in  the  bod)-  of  the  '  Scarlet  Letter'  as 
a  clown  at  a  funeral." 

It  was  a  redeeming  trail  in  [''inch's  character  that 
he  never  lost  his  temper,  no  mailer  how  hard 
pressed.  Meldrum  had  asserled  himself  somewhat 
positive!)',  even  aggressively,  in  thus  laying  down 
the  law  for  the  admission  or  exclusion  of  humor  in 
a  given  case.  But  Finch  laughed  ripplingly  as  he 
said,  "  Possibly  I  am  all  wrong.  Hut  I  still  think 
that  a  broadly  humorous  touch  here  and  there 
would  have  made  the  tragic  element  in  the  'Scarlet 
Letter '  even  more  prominent  and  effective,  and 
therefore  would  have  been  the  truest  art."  He  ut- 
tered this  as  genially  and  sweetly  as  if  he  had  been 
passing  the  highest  encomium  on  the  author. 
There  was  no  such  thing  as  quarreling  with  a  critic 
so  bland  in  the  deliverance  of  his  asperities.  Mel- 
drum  only  retorted  : 

"  All  right  ;  but  I  predict  you  will  pay  the  pen- 
alty of  your  disbelief  in  the  artistic  perfection 
of  Hawthorne  by  being  denied  the  spectacle  that 


//•//•//  iiAirrnoRXi-:  i\  HOSTO.V.  209 

you  crave.      However,  we   will  make  the  trial   for 
you." 

Exeunt  owncs,  at  the  sound  of  the  breakfast  gong. 

On  the  first  of  November,  Meldrum  and  \Vadlo\v 
arrived  in  Boston  by  the  morning  train  from  New 
York  and  \vent  direct!)'  to  Young's,  where  a  meet- 
ing with  Finch  had  been  arranged  to  take  place  at 
noon  precise!)-.  Kach  brought  with  him  a  copy  of 
the  "  Scarlet  Letter"  and  a  map  of  Boston,  armed 
with  which  they  visited  the  site  of  the  impending 
experiment,  in  order  to  study  and  understand  the 
exact  locations  and  relations  of  the  original  market- 
place, the  earliest  church,  and  the  pillory  which  stood 
nearly  beneath  its  caves.  By  correspondence  with 
Finch  they  had  already  become  possessed  of  all 
that  history  and  tradition  have  handed  down  about 
a  locality  the  most  famous,  by  association,  in  Boston 
town.  They  knew  from  the  best  available  testi- 
mony that  the  open  space  now  occupied  by,  and 
eastward  of,  the  old  State  House  was  the  ancient 
market-place,  the  boundaries  of  which  have  re- 
mained, but  little  changed,  to  this  day.  They  had 

:  sufficient  reasons  for  believing  that  the  present  site 
of  Bra/.er's  Building,  bounded  by  State  and  Dcvon- 

I  shire  streets  and  Congress  Place,  was  that  of  the 
square,  one-storied,  thatched  church,  whereof  the 
godly  Master  Dimmesdale  was  the  eloquent  and 


210  Till-.    ENCHANTED. 

adored  pastor.  And  they  readily  identified  the 
spot  where  the  pillory  must  have  stood  at  the  west- 
ern extremity  of  the  market-place,  as  required  by 
Hawthorne.  Having  settled  upon  these  scenic  de- 
tails and  resolved  upon  a  certain  plan  of  operations, 
more  for  the  benefit  of  the  skeptical,  unimaginative, 
and  impervious  Finch  than  fur  their  own  behoof, 
they  returned  to  Young's  and  braced  themselves  for 
the  forthcoming  trial  by  a  final  reading  of  the  clos- 
ing scene  of  the  story  (which  alone  the}'  designed 
to  put  to  proof),  pending  the  appearance  of  their 
Boston  friend. 

The  clock  was  striking  twelve  as  Finch  reported 
at  the  rendezvous,  there!)}"  greatly  pleasing  the  two 
New  Yorkers,  who  reckoned  punctuality  one  of  the 
principal  virtues.  He  was  alert,  blithe,  radiant 
with  good  nature  and  high  spirits,  as  became  a 
healthy,  prosperous  young  man  on  a  cool,  sunny 
November  day.  There  was  a  hearty  interchange  of 
greetings,  and  then  Meldrum  fell  to  business  with 
his  customary  alacrity  and  directness. 

"Anybody  can  see  that  you  arc  physically  in 
good  form  for  our  little  experiment.  And  that  is 
an  essential  thing,  I  can  tell  you.  But  have  you 
refreshed  your  recollection  of  the  twenty-third 
chapter  this  morning  ?  Is  every  incident  of  it  per- 
fectly clear  to  you  in  the  order  it  is  set  down  ?  " 


;/•////  //.///•/// uA'.v A'  /.\"  />'t>.vyuv.          -n 

Finch  avoided  a  categorical  answer,  and  only  re- 
plied, \vith  smiling  confidence,  "I  have  it  all  by 
heart,  trust  me,"  at  the  same  time  touching  his 
white  and  rounded  forehead. 

"There  is  where  you  terrible  critics  carry  your 
hearts,"  observed  \Yadlow,  with  a  laugh. 

Finch  laughed,  too,  and  blushed  as  one  who  had 
been  complimented  on  a  rare  excellence.  "Thank 
you,"  said  he,  modestly.  "  If  you  imply  that  my 
personal  sympathies  and  preferences  such  as  the 
heart  might  prompt  are  held  in  strict  suspense 
when  I  pass  judgment  on  a  work"  of  literature  or 
art,  I  must  honestly  plead  guilt}-  to  the  indict- 
ment." 

Wadlow  knew  that  there  was  some  unexpressed 
specific  thing  behind  this  general  proposition,  so 
airily  avowed.  1  le  determined  to  draw  out  his  man. 

"  Now,  I  dare  say,"  he  said,  banteringly,  "  you 
:  could  improve  on  Hawthorne's  treatment  of  the 
:  scene  at  the  pillory." 

"  To  be  frank,  I  think  it  might  be  touched  up  to 
advantage.  For  instance,  there  is  no  good  and 
sufficient  reason  why  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dimmesdalc 
j  should  have  been  allowed  by  the  author  to  ascend 
the  platform  and  publicly  avow  his  sin  in  the  exag- 
gerated terms  he  employs,  and  make  that  shocking 
exhibition  of  a  scarlet  letter  which  he  had  burned 
into  his  own  breast  in  a  moment  of  harrowing1  re- 


212  THE   ENCHANTED. 

morse.  The  reader  of  the  book  well  knows  how 
fully  the  poor  fellow  had  already  been  punished  in 
his  own  conscience  for  his  one  and  only  offense,  and 
the  sufferer  might  have  uecn  spared  this  last  and 
needless  humiliation.  It  did  not  relieve  the  adul- 
terous wife,  the  partner  of  his  crime,  from  any  of 
the  odium  which  still  attached  to  her.  It  was  of  no 
service  to  the  pretty  little  Pearl,  the  offspring  of 
their  joint  guilt.  And  the  self-inflicted  agony  of 
the  minister's  confession  caused  his  death  on  the 
spot,  as  well  it  might  have  done.  What  good  did 
it  all  do  ?  " 

"  Putt  my  dear  fellow,"  urged  Wadlow,  "  all  these 
incidents,  the  painfulncss  of  which  in  the  reading  I 
fully  admit,  are  indispensable  to  the  story.  Its  key- 
note, or  motive,  is  the  irresistible  goading  po\ver  of 
the  old  Puritan  conscience  which  could  not  rest  till 
Dimmesdale  had  taken  the  full  measure  of  his  pen- 
alty on  this  earth  for  sins  done  in  the  bod)-,  instead 
of  waiting  for  the  balance  to  be  struck  in  another 
world.  I  low  could  this  governing  idea  of  the 
Scarlet  Letter  be  carried  to  its  logical  conclusion 
short  of  his  own  public  proclamation  of  his  guilt  on 
the  very  spot  where  the  Puritan  law  would  have 
condemned  him  to  stand  seven  years  before,  by  the 
side  of  Hester  Prynnc,  and  wearing  another  big  red 
'A?'  The  speaker  rested,  as  one  who  has  pro- 
pounded "a  poser." 


//•//•//  //.//;•/•//( >A'.\7-:  /.v  KOSTO.V.          213 

Finch  responded,  with  his  invincible  blandncss, 
"What  you  say  of  the  keynote,  or  moti\pe,  <>f  the 
tale  is  all  true.  Dimmesdale's  intentions  were,  in 
the  circumstances,  natural,  proper,  and,  if  you 
please,  laudable.  Hut  when  the  reader  has  once 
been  informed  that  the  err  in;.;"  pastor  intended  to 
make  this  really  absurd  and  needless  self-expiation 
of  his  offense,  that  should  have  sufficed,  without 
permitting  the  man's  design  to  be  literally  carried 

out." 

"  1  low  could  it  have  been  prevented? "  asked  Mel- 
drum,  with  some  curiosity. 

"  Simply  by  letting  the  minister  die  of  excessive 
emotion,  at  the  foot  of  the  platform,  or  while  he 
is  slowly  ascending  the  steps  with  Hester's  arm 
around  him,  or  on  tin-  platform  itself  at  the  foot  of 
the  pillory,  and  to  die  before  he  could  say  a  single 
word  in  his  own  condemnation.  The  reader  would 
have  given  Mr.  Dimmesdale  the  full  credit  of  his 
morbidly  conscientious  purpose  and  the  moral  of 
the  'story  would  have  been  equally  well  enforced, 
and  one  of  the  most  shocking  denouements  in  fiction 
would  have  been  artistically  avoided." 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Meldrum,  with  a  sigh  that  was  half  a 
laugh,  "  I  now  realize  full}'  how  far  apart  we  are. 
You  belong  to  the  class]that  wants  its  novels  always 
mild,  unemotional,  uneventful,  with  all  the  tragedies 
and  sorrows  of  life  hinted  at  or  told  by  indirection 


214 

and  obliquely.  Y<>u  call  llial  the  highest  reach  of 
Art,  but  heaven  knows  why  !  The  model  novelist  of 
this  school  would  probably  have  expended  himself 
freely  on  a  description  of  the  planks  and  oilier  com- 
ponent parts  of  the  platform  and  pillory,  and  would 
have  reported  the  running  comments  of  the  specta- 
tors below  (u'hieh  Hawthorne  oniits>.  But  when  it 
came  to  the  death  of  Dimmcsdale— if  an  author  of 
your  new  school  had  let  him  die  at  all  the  reader 
would  n<>t  have  been  sure  that  anything  more  had 
happened  to  him  than  a  fainting  spell,  from  whkh 
he  mi;;'ht  recover  in  the  next  chapter,  and  his  death 
would  have  remained,  to  the  end  of  the  book,  a 
matter  of  pure  inference.  Much  of  \\hat  is  termed 
art  in  current  fiction  is  not  art  concealing  art,  but 
art  concealing  nature,  and  one  of  its  aims  is  to 
shirk"  difficulties  of  description." 

Finch's  smile  never  deserted  him.  "  I  sec  that 
we  differ,  beyond  hope  of  agreement,  on  the  main 
issue,  our  points  of  view  being  so  widely  separated," 
he  remarked.  "But  as  to  one  matter,  T  think',  we 
will  agree.  It  was  too  bad,  was  it  not,  now,  that 
the  minister's  ardent,  devoted,  life-long  friends, 
those  to  whom  lie  had  been  good  and  true  and 
helpful  all  through,  should  have  been  obliged  to 
listen  to  that  startling  acknowledgment  of  his  guilt 
and  shame  from  his  own  lips.  It  is  well  that  some 
idols  should  be  shattered.  But  it  is  a  terrible  thing 


to  lose  one's  faith  in  all  piety  and  purity  ;  and  that 
must  have  been  sadly  shaken,  if  not  destroyed,  by 
Dimmesdale's  astounding,  overwrought  revelation 
of  his  inner  self." 

"  \ow,  now,  I  have  you,"  cried  \Vadlow,  gayly. 
"  After  the  occasional  manner  of  your  kind,  you 
have  not  truly  and  fully  read  the  book  you  criti- 
cise." (Finch  colored  a  little,  for  he  remembered 
how  he  had  bolted  it  raw  in  one  greenly  reading  and 
never  returned  to  it,  trusting  its  entire  contents, 
somewhat  presumptuously, to  his  fine  memory.)  "  I 
beg  to  remind  you  that  Hawthorne  meets  your 
objection  in  advance.  Nowhere  does  he  show  a  pro- 
founder  and  more  intimate-  knowledge  of  human 
nature  than  where  he.  tells  us  how  the  minister's  ad- 
mirers and  personal  friends  refused  to  believe  that 
he  had  done  anything  wrong,  in  spite  of  his  explicit 
confession.  Their  ears  heard  nothing  from  his  lips 
but  a  short  sermon,  having  no  personal  application 
to  himself.  To  them  the  manner  of  his  death  was 
a  parable,  designed  to  convey  the  lesson  that,  in 
'  the  view  of  infinite  purity,  we  are  all  sinners  alike. 
Their  eyes  did  not  sec  the  flaming  "  A"  which  ap- 
i  peared  to  all  others  when  he  tore  the  ministerial 
j  band  asunder.  In  the  exact  language  of  Haw- 
thorne, as  I  recall  it,  "  We  must  be  allowed  to  con- 
sider this  version  of  the  story  as  only  an  instance  of 
that  stubborn  fidelity  with  which  a  man's  friends— 


and  especially  a  clergyman  s—  will  sometimes  uphold  his 

eJiaraeter  ;  \i</ttii  proofs  as  clear  as  tJie  mid-day  sun- 
f.'iine  on  t/ie  scarlet  letter  establish  him  as  a  false  and 
sin-stained  creature  of  t/ie  dust."  (The  italics  rep- 
resent the  significant  emphasis  which  Wadlow  laid 
on  this  passage,  i 

"  Peeea"i'i  !  peeeai'i .'  as  you  well  say,  you  have  me 
there,  and  1  cry  you  mercy,"  rejoined  Kinch,  who 
had  by  this  time  recovered  from  his  momentary 
discomposure,  and  joined  in  the'  laugh  against  him 
which  Aleldmm  and  Wadlow  were  not  quite  mag- 
nanimous enough  to  fore;,/).  "  I  give  up  that  point 
—a  minor  one,  after  all  and  stand  by  the  rest." 

Aleldrum  now  took"  his  turn  in  disciplining  the 
critic.  "  1  am  surprised,  my  dear  fellow,  that  a 
doughty  champion  of  the  mild  realistic  school,  like 
yourself,  should  not  have  fastened  instinctively  on 
that  part  of  Hawthorne's  story  where  he  violates 
probabilities,  and  even  human  nature  itself,  to  an 
extent  that  even  Wadlow  and  myself  cannot  de- 
fend." 

Finch  opened  his  eyes  widely.  He  had  no  idea  of 
what  was  coming,  and  secretly  hoped  it  was  not 
some  second  exposure  of  his  hast)'  reading  and  im- 
pulsive conclusion. 

"  I  am  referring  not  to  what  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dim- 
mesdale  did  to  himself  but  to  what  he  did  to  the 
procession.  It  was  on  its  way,  you  recollect,  from  the 


217 

church  to  the  town  hall,  where  the  banquet  was  to  be 
served.  Everybody  knows  how  hungry  one  is  made 
by  long  sermons,  and  Dimmcsdale's  election  dis- 
course that  morning  could  not  have  been  shorter 
than  the  good  old  regulation  length  of  one  hour 
and  a  half.  1  Tawthornc  speaks  of  the  '  vast  immeas- 
urable tract  of  written  space  which  composed  it.' 
Now,  here  were  all  the  dignitaries  of  Boston,  valiant 
trenchermen  every  one,  in  an  age  when  dyspepsia 
was  unknown,  headed  by  the  ancients  and  honor- 
ables,  whose  prowess,  then  as  now,  shone  most 
conspicuously  at  the  dinner-table.  All  these 
empty,  ravenous  men,  proceeding  from  a  feast  of 
reason  to  a  more  material  and  satisfying  repast  at  a 
quick  step,  were  compelled  to  stand  in  front  of  the 
pillory  for  an  indefinite  time  and  stay  their  stomachs 
with  still  another  sermon.  And,  for  all  the  novelist 
tells  us,  the  procession  missed  the  dinner  altogether. 
Nothing  more  is  heard  of  it.  Now,  if  I  were  to 

o 

pick  holes  in  Hawthorne,  I  would  say  that  he 
should  have  allowed  the  body  of  the  procession,  cer- 
tainly the  ancients  and  honorables  and  the  governor 
and  the  councilors,  whose  appetites  were  not  to  be 
trifled  with,  to  go  on  to  their  dinner;  and  he 
should  have  made  up  Dimmesdale's  audience  out  of 
the  hangers-on  and  the  sidewalk  spectators,  who 
had  no  dinners  to  eat  and  could  therefore  not  share 
the  pangs  of  the  bigwigs  who  had  been  saving  them- 


21  S  77/A    ENCHAXTKD. 

selves  up  for  the  occasion.  How  is  that  for  an 
acute  criticism,  my  friend  t  " 

The  speaker  had  pushed  his  irony  almost  to  the 
point  of  offense  ;  for,  polite  as  lie  was  by  nature  and 
training,  he  was  apt  to  be  vexed  by  the  kind  of 
criticism  to  which  Finch  was  prone,  when  exer- 
cised upon  any  one  of  his  select  company  of  be- 
loved authors.  Hut  the  Bostonian  had  taken  it  all 
in  good  faith. 

"  You  are  a  born  critic  yourself  and  must  not  decry 
your  own  craft  again,"  said  Finch,  with  energy. 
"  The  objection  you  make  is  original,  neat,  and  un- 
answerable. The  realists,  of  whom  you  are  really 
one  whatever  you  may  say  about  them,  would 
never  have  fallen  into  that  mistake." 

"The  nairctc  of  this  remark  was  irresistible  in  its 
charm.  Meldrum's  face,  which  had  been  for  the 
moment  clouded,  was  again  overspread  by  a  smile. 
Then,  dropping  the  subject  with  New  York  sudden- 
ness, and  starting  toward  the  door,  he  said,  "  Re- 
member the  sun  was  but  little  past  the  meridian 
when  Dimmesdale  made  his  confession  and  took  his 
punishment.  The  more  closely  we  keep  to  the  text, 
the  more  complete  will  be  our  success." 

So  off  they  marched  to  the  site  of  the  tragedy,  less 
than  a  minute's  walk  from  Young's.  At  the  east 
end  of  the  old  State  House  they  paused,  and  Mel- 
drum  began  to  look  about  him  earnestly. 


CIIAI'TKR    XVII. 

KKAI'I'KAUANVK   OF   Till:   SCARLHT    LKTTKR. 

"  I  I\VK  you  any  doubt  as  to  the  precise  location 
of  the  church  ami  the  pillory?  I  thought  that  was 
all  settled,"  remarked  l-'iuch. 

"  Xot  the  slightest  doubt.  That  is  a  matter  of 
fact,  determined  beyond  question.  I  am  only  look- 
ing for  a  likely  boy  to  play  the  bird  game." 

"  What  is  the  bird  game  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  little  trick  that  enables  us  to  stand  in  the 
street  of  a  crowded  city  for  some  minutes  and  look 
fixcdly  at  an}'  object,  without  attracting  attention 
to  ourselves.  It  is  my  own  invention,"  continued 
Aleldrum  with  pride,  "  and  necessity  was  truly  its 
mother.  Wadlow  and  I  worked  it  beautifully 
several  times  last  summer  in  London,  and  since  our 
return  home  we  have  adopted  it  with  equally  good 
results  once  or  twice  in  Xew  York'." 

"  Describe  it,  please." 

"  Well,  after  we  have  reached  the  scene  of  our  in- 
tended experiment,  I  pick  up  some  loafer — a  good- 
sized  and  mischievous  boy  preferred — and  engage 
him  to  assist  us,  as  follows :  he  is  to  stand  in  the 
street  at  a  point  convenient  for  our  purpose  and 

219 


EXCHANTKD. 

dr;i\v  a  crowd  there  by  keeping  still  and  looking  up 
at  the  top  of  sonic  building  or  at  a  particular 
window,  if  the  building  is  too  hi^h.  In  less  than 
ten  seconds  he  is  sure  to  be  joined  by  some  other 
idler  who  invariably  asks  him  what  he  is  looking  at. 
To  this  first  question  he  always  responds,  'There  is 
a  bird  up  there."  'What  kind  of  a  bird?'  asks  the 
other  fellow.  '  I  don't  know,'  answers  the  decoy. 
He  is  instructed,  under  penalty  of  forfeiting  his 
pay,  never  to  vary  these  replies  by  a  single  word. 
l)iit  there  is  no  need  of  his  saying  much.  The 
other  loafers  who  collect  around  him  as  a  nucleus 
soon  do  all  the  talking  for  him.  They,  in  their 
turn,  explain  to  the  newcomers  that  '  There  is  a  bird 
up  there.'  When  asked  '  What  kind  of  a  bird  ?'  it 
is  amusing  to  hear  their  replies.  Some  are  natural 
liars,  and  deceive  others  for  the  love  of  deception. 
Others  are  merely  imaginative  and  assume  that  the 
bird  which  persists  in  keeping  out  of  sight  must  be 
rare  and  valuable  to  excite  so  much  interest.  Thus, 
in  two  minutes,  it  is  successively  a  mocking-bird,  or 
a  pet  canary,  or  a  parrot,  which  is  presumably  a 
great  loss  to  its  owner,  and  for  the  return  of  which  a 
liberal  reward  will  surely  be  paid.  Or  else  it  is  a. 
crow,  a  hawk,  an  owl,  or  an  eagle,  that  has  lost  its 
way  in  the  night  time  and  is  bewildered  among  the 
chimney  tops.  In  five  minutes,  at  the  utmost,  from 
fifty  to  a  hundred  people  will  be  gathered." 


"And  where  do  you  come  into  the  bird  game?" 
"  \Ve  hang  on  the  skirts  of  the  crowd  and  take 
our  fill  of  the  scene  we  reproduce,  undisturbed,  for 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  perhaps.  When  the  scene  re- 
quires, as  it  sometimes  does,  a  populace,  as  specta- 
tors, the  crowd  itself  contributes  to  the  illusion. 
\Ve  only  have  to  imagine  them  clothed  in  the 
costume  of  the  period,  whatever  it  may  be.  (iray, 
steeple-crowned  hats  will  be  the  feature  to-day." 

"  l>ut  don't  the  police   ever  order  your  crowds   to 
movc%  on  ?  " 

"Never  till    we    have    accomplished     our  object. 
You  see,  the  crowd   is    not   badly  behaved.      It  is  a 
new  dodge  and  the  policeman   himself  does  not  un- 
derstand   it.      His  curiosity    is   aroused.      He    looks 
for  the  bird,  too.      Usually  there  is  a  person  present 
who  has  good  reasons  for  hating  the  police,  and   he 
improves    on  our   game    without   charge.      He   pre- 
;    tends  to  see   smoke  coming  out   of   the   roof,  or   a 
i    man  hiding  behind  a  chimney — possibly  an  escaped 
lunatic    or  a   fugitive   from    justice.     Off    goes   the 
|    policeman  to  see  what  is  the  trouble  up  there,  and 
the    crowd   has  another   respite,    during   which    we 
:    steal  away." 

Just  then,  a  tall,  rawboned,  much-patched  boy 
••  caught  Meldrum's  eye.  That  practiced  judge  of 
i  character  beckoned  the  urchin  into  a  hallway,  and 
the  bargain  for  the  bird  game  was  struck  with- 


222 


(nit  delay.  Never  was  juvenile  accomplice  better 
pleased  with  an  engagement,  lie  grinned  with 
delight  as  he  thought  of  fooling  the  people  and  still 
more,  his  natural  enemy,  the  policeman. 

As  he  crossed  the  open,  paved  space  to  the  as- 
signed point  of  operations,  about  fifteen  feet  from 
the  north  front  of  Bra/.er's  building,  he  kept  repeat- 
ing to  himself.  "  There's  a  bird  up  there,"  and  "  I 
don't  know,"  in  order  to  be  perfect  in  his  part. 

What  Meldrum  predicted  came  true  and  always 
\vill  come  true.  Before  he  could  count  ten,  a  .--tract 
idler  was  standing  by  the  side  of  the  decoy  and 
looking  upward  longingly.  A  third  and  a  fourth 
followed,  and  the}'  quadrupled  the  attractive1  power 
of  the  nucleus.  Loafers  rallied  to  it  like  iron  fil- 
ings to  a  magnet.  A  full  minute  had  not  passed 
and  the  desired  crowd  had  been  collected.  At  a 
signal  from  Meldrum,  the  three  friends  joined  it  at 
the  outer  edge.  From  this  moment  each  one  had 
to  act  for  himself  and  act  with  rapidity.  Finch  had 
been  carefully  coached  in  the  mode  of  procedure 
and  could  not  have  been  further  aided  by  .Meldrum 
and  Wadlow.  To  look  after  him  would  be  only  a 
distraction  fatal  to  their  own  efforts.  For  the  next 
ten  minutes  the}'  forgot  his  existence,  and  he  wisely 
forbore  to  remind  them  of  it  by  so  much  as  a 
nudge  or  a  whisper. 

While   the  crowd  was   staring  up  at  the  curved 


:  stone  parapet  of  Brazer's  building,  Meldrum  and 
\Vadlo\v  had  willed  the  building  itself  off  the 
premises  and  erected  in  its  stead  a  square,  one- 
storied,  thatched  meeting-house.  They  did  nut 
stop  to  throw  in  windows  and  doors  or  other  archi- 
tectural details,  which  could  be  of  no  help  to  them. 
All  they  wanted  of  the  meeting-house  was  to  serve- 
as  a  kind  of  accessor}-  to  the  external  platform 
which  stood  nearly  beneath  its  eaves.  This  plat- 
form, ascended  by  steps  from  the  street,  was  the 
one  thing  that  must  be  most  sharply  defined  at  the 
outset.  Meldrum  and  \Vadlow  were  both  in  fine 

;  condition  that  day,  and  the  platform  stood  before 
them  in  a  twinkling,  read}'  to  bear  the  actors  in  the 
forthcoming  tableaux.  So  clearly  was  it  impressed 
on  the  minds  of  the  two  trained  observers  that  they 

;  saw   in    the    background    the    pillory    itself,    which 

j  Hawthorne  mentions  as  standing  there,  but  not  in 
use.  Had  it  pleased  that  enchanter  to  subject  some 
violator  of  the  Sabbath  to  disgrace  and  torture  in 
that  public  place,  as  a  side  show  to  his  tragedy, 
Meldrum  and  Wadlow  would  have  distinctly  seen 
the  sad  face  of  the  offender  protruding  from  the 
hole  into  which  his  neck  was  closely  fitted,  and 
silently  imploring  the  spectators  not  to  throw 
cabbage  stumps  at  him. 

In   lieu   of  the  Derby  and    other   modern    hats, 
battered  and  seedy  most  of  them,  which  actually 


met  the  level  of  their  eyes,  they  su\v,  by  metamor- 
phosis, a  cluster  ot  peaked  broad  brims,  like  mon- 
strous fungoid  growths.  .Among  the  wearers  of 
these  they  could  easily  have  identified  the  historic 
Bellingham,  had  time  permitted  them  to  tieket  the 
minor  personages  of  the  drama.  They  could  have 
seen,  conspicuous  by  its  difference  frmn  the  other 
headgear,  the  black  skull  cap  crowning  the  white 
locks  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wilson,  whose  benevolent 
face-  belied  the  ruthless  austerity  of  his  creed.  JUit 
any  interest  they  might  have  felt  in  the  recreated 
knot  of  Puritans  who  jostled  them,  was  wholly 
merged  in  the  three  figures  which  were  nou  slowly 
climbing  the  steps  to  the  stage  of  exposure  and 
shame. 

There  was  the  erring  minister,  haggard,  red-eyed, 
bent,  tottering,  who  would  have  fallen  but  for  the 
strong  arm  of  Heater  I'ryune,  which  encircled  him, 
and  the  support  given  him  by  her  shoulder.  She 
was  beautiful,  calm,  erect,  full  of  strength  for  the 
awful  ordeal,  a  true  type  of  woman  forever  bearing 
more  than  her  share  of  contumely  for  the  joint 
offense,  and  braving  public  scorn  like  a  lioness  if  she 
ma}-  shield  and  comfort  her  lover.  The  nerveless 
fingers  of  the  minister  limply  retained  the  hand  of 
little  Pearl,  who  knew  the  top  of  the  platform  too 
well  to  be  frightened  by  what  she  might  sec  there, 
and  who  had  been  stared  at  and  shunned  so  long  as 


A' /•:.//'/'/:./ A-. /.\  •('/•:  or  THE  SCAKLET  LETTER,     225 

the  unfathered  child  of  Mistress  I'rynne,  that  she 
had  no  fear  of  facing  any  congregation  of  scowls 
and  sneers.  She  seemed  to  be  leading  the  way  and 
helping  her  mother  to  keep  her  sin-stricken  partner 
from  falling. 

Following  them,  with  a  stealth)"  footstep,  came 
the  aged  and  crabbed  husband  of  the  fair  adulteress, 
he  that  is  known  in  the  pages  of  tin;  Scarlet  Letter 
as  Roger  Chillingworth.  Such  husbands  do  not 
receive:  from  the  world  much  sympathy,  when  their 
wives  go  astray,  and,  if  In;  had  been  entitled  to  any, 
IK;  had  forfeited  it  by  his  merciless  prolongation  of 
the  refined  torture  to  which  he  had  put  Dimmes- 
dale  when  he  had  fa!  honied  the  secret  of  that  man's 
miser)"  and  remorse.  Meldrum  and  \Vadlo\v  would 
gladly  have  stricken  him  from  the  scene,  but  he 
was  an  inseparable  part  of  it.  His  ryes  gleamed  in 
their  deep  sockets  with  the  fires  of  hate  and  baffled 
:  revenge,  as  he  foresaw  that  his  victim  was  about  to 
escape  him  to  peace  by  the  way  of  confession  which 
so  many  sinners  have  trod. 

The  effect  of  the  spectacle  could  not  have  been 

i  heightened  by  hearing  what  Dimmesdale  said  to  the 

,  astonished   Puritans  below  him  as  he  straightened 

himself  with  a  great  effort  and  unpacked  his  soul. 

Meldrum  and  Wadlow  knew  every  word  of  it,  and 

could    follow    him    textually    as    his    bloodless    lips 

parted  and  closed  and  his  bosom  heaved,  and  the 


226 

whole  man,  save  his  arms  and  hands,  which  were 
otherwise  occupied,  vibrated  with  the  passionate 
joy  of  unreserved  confession.  At  the  point  of  his 
speech  where  he  cries  "  L<>  !  the  scarlet  letter 
which  Hester  wears,"  just  before  he  bares  his  own 
breast  to  show  the  companion  to  it  which  he  had 
branded  there,  in  the  vain  attempt  to  sear  and 
satisfy  his  o\vn  conscience  by  that  act  of  self- 
punishment,  Meldrum  and  \Vadlow  saw,  for  the 
first  time,  the  capital  "  A  "  of  red  cloth  fantastically 
embroidered  with  gold  thread  on  Hester's  dress. 
Their  thoughts  had  been  so  centered  on  the  princi- 
pal figure  of  the  little  group,  that  even  the  noonday 
sun,  shining  straight  down  on  the  scarlet  letter,  had 
not  till  then  made  it  apparent  to  them. 

The  next  moment  the  speaker  had  violently 
detached  himself  from  the  woman  and  child  and 
stepped  a  pace  in  front  of  them,  as  if  to  protect 
them  forevermore  by  taking  upon  himself  all  the 
shame  which  had  hitherto  been  wholly  heaped 
upon  them.  His  ghastly  face  flushed  as  if  with 
triumph  ;  he  stood  erect  ;  his  lips  opened  widely  as 
those  of  one  speaking  in  trumpet  tones  ;  and  then 
came  the  dreadful  climax — the  rending  of  the  min- 
isterial band  and  the  exhibition  of  the  scar  of  the 
scarlet  letter  deeply  branded  into  his  own  tender 
flesh,  which  the  devil  would  never  more  fret  with 
the  touch  of  his  burning  finger.  Upon  the  death 


.cone  which  followed,  Meldrum  and  \\';idlow  could 
lardly  bear  to  look,  so  mournful  and  touching  was 
hat  tableau  of  broken  lives  and  bleeding  hearts. 

P>ul,  had  the}'  been  disposed  to  glut  their  eyes  on 
•  uch  miseries,  the}'  would  have  been  balked  in  that 
lesion;  for,  at  the  instant  when  little  Pearl  knelt 
down  and  kissed  the  lips  of  the  dying  father  she 
lad  but  ju-t  found,  there  u  as  a  clang  of  alarm  bells 
n  State  Street,  and  a  ^team  fire  engine,  a  hose  cart, 
uul  a  hook  and  ladder  trucl;  turned  tin:  corner  on  a 
gallop,  and  they  barely  escaped  being"  run  over  by 
ipringing  from  the  street  to  the  sidewalk.  Pios- 
H.TO,  snapping  his  statf  across  his  knee,  could  not 
lave  broken  a  spell  more  suddenly  and  completely, 
lone  were  the-  thatched  roof  of  the  First  Church 
uul  the  adjacent  pillory,  and  in  their  places  stood 
5ra/er's  building  and  an  express  wagon,  which  had 
'jeen  sharply  drawn  up  against  the  curb  stone  to 
nake  way  for  the  fire  engine  and  its  satellites. 
Slot  only  had  the  steeple-hatted  Puritans  taken 
dight,  but  the  little  crowd  so  successful!)'  collected 
>y  the  bird  game  had  melted  away. 

Meldrum  and  \Vadlo\v  rubbed  their  eyes  bc- 
'vilderedly,  so  precipitate  had  been  their  fall  from 
;.he  height  of  two  centuries.  Recovering  thcm- 
iclves,  they  recognized,  close  at  hand,  the  lank  and 
larlcquin  boy  and  Finch.  The  lad  held  out  his 
land  to  receive  the  residue  of  the  stipend  he  had 


so  well  earned.  Closing  his  grimy  finders  upon  it, 
he  ran  a\vay  to  spend  it  on  cigarettes  and  the  latest 
issue  of  the  F>oy  Detective  Series. 

"  What  did  you  see?  "asked  Finch,  eagerly. 

"  Fverylhing."  was  the  joint  response.  "And 
you?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  I  am  sorry  fur  you,"  said  Aleldruni.  "I  tokl 
you  so,"  was  on  hi-,  lip-,  ;  lint  he  was  too  much  of  a 
gentleman  to  uf ter  it. 

"You  must  ii"t  be  discouraged  by  the  first  fail- 
ure," added  Wadlo\v,  kindly.  "  Practice  may  en- 
able you. " 

"To  he  candid,  I  fear  not,"  Finch  replied,  with 
his  habitual  sweetness.  "  My  place  is  in  the  crowd, 
diverting  its  eyes  from  you.  I  (latter  myself  that 
the  boy  had  an  able  pal  in  me  for  the1  bird  game." 

The  subject  was  renewed  and  discussed  in  the 
same;  spirit  of  frankness  and  good  humor  at  the  sub- 
sequent generous  luncheon  at  Young's,  provided  by 
Finch  as  host  of  the  occasion.  Meldrum  and  \Yad- 
low  told  him  exactly  what  they  had  seen.  Then  it 
was  agreed  to  give  him  the  fullest  range  for  ques- 
tions. 

"  First,"  said  Meldrum,  "  we  invite  the  most  rigid 
investigation  of  our  claims.  Fxamineus  separately, 
if  you  please." 


REAPPEARANCE  OF  Till'.   SCARLET  LETTER.       229 

Finch  lifted  his  hand  in  protest  against  any  sup- 
position that  lie  could  impugn  the  veracity  of  his 
friends.  "  I  confess  that,  for  my  own  enlightenment, 
I  would  like  to  put  a  few  questions.  You  have  ex- 
plained to  me  that  the  scenes  reproduced  in  these 
curious  experiments  are  those  which  have  been  in- 
effaceably  stamped  on  your  minds  by  an  enchanter 
in  ideas  and  words.  Visiting  the  places  where  these 
scenes  are  laid,  you  are  enabled,  by  an  exercise  of 
will  power,  coupled  with  an  entire  surrender  to  what 
we  may  call  the  genius  loci  (Tor  want  of  a  better 
term),  to  transfer  them  from  the  chambers  of  the 
brain  to  the  external  world.  Do  I  make  myself 
clear?  " 

"  There  may  be  twenty  ways  of  stating  the  propo- 
sition," said  Wadlow,  "  but  yours  will  answer." 

"  To  begin  with,  then,  what  was  the  color  of  Hes- 
ter 1'rynne's  dress  ?  " 

Me  Id  rum  replied,  without  hesitation,  "  I  did  not 
notice.  The  only  color  I  observed  upon  her  was 
ithat  of  the  Scarlet  Letter." 

"  Ditto  for  me,"  added  Wadlow,  "  though  I  now 
(recall  that  Hawthorne  expressly  clad  her  in  coarse 
gray  cloth  that  day." 

"And    little   Pearl's  dress — what  was  its  color?" 

"  Give  it  up,"  was  Meldrum's  answer. 

"And  I,  too,"  said  Wadlow,  "which  is  strange, 
considering  that  the  author  always  lays  great  stress 


230 

on  the  niry  gayety  of  the  child's  apparel.  He  took 
the  pnins  to  tell  us  that  on  the  morning  of  the  t rag- 
ed}*, it  \vas  comparable  only  to  the  many-lined  bril- 
liancy of  a  butterfly's  wing  or  the  painted  glory  from 
the  leaf  of  a  bright  flower.  Hut  it  did  not  catch 
my  eye,  or  Meldrum's,  either,  as  it  seems." 

"  No  statement  could  better  establish  your  credi- 
bility as  witnesses,"  rejoined  the  examiner,  with  a 
laugh.  "  Kverybody  knows  that  men  take  no  no- 
tice of  women's  and  children's  dresses — their  color 
or  fashion,  or  anything  but  their  expense— when 
they  are  husbands  and  fathers.  Now,  let  me  ask 
you,  what  kind  of  a  hat  did  Mr.  Dimmesdale 
wear  ?  " 

"None,"  came  from  the  lips  of  the  two  as  one 
word.  "And why?"  continued  Wadlow.  "Simply 
because  Hawthorne  did  not  provide  him  with  a  hat 
for  that  or  any  other  da}*.  If  the  poor  man  had 
been  fitted  with  a  steeple  crown,  or  a  shovel  shape, 
or  a  skull  cap,  I,  for  one,  should  have  remarked  it 
unconsciously." 

"And  I,"  echoed  Meld  rum.  "If  novelists  don't 
supply  their  heroes  with  hats,  we  can't  do  it  for 
them,  you  see." 

"  Good,  so  far,"  pursued  Finch.  "  Now,  tell  me, 
which  arm  did  Hester  throw  around  her  lover  to 
support  him  as  he  ascended  the  steps?" 

"The  left,"  said  Meldrum,  emphatically. 


REAPPEARANCE  OF  THE  SCARLFT  LETTER.       231 

"The  right,"  said  Wadlow,  with  equal  positive, 
ness. 

"  Let  me  say  that  that  discrepancy  between  tin- 
witnesses  is  another  proof  that  this  is  not  a  put  up 
job,"  commented  the  interlocutor. 

"  In  the  absence  of  any  instructions  from  the 
author,  I  had  always  imagined  Hester  to  be  on  the 
minister's  right.  Thut  would  bring  the  child  on  his 
left,  where  she  ought  to  be  under  good  stage 
management."  This  from  Meldrum. 

It  turned  out  that  this  arrangement  had  been  re- 
versed in  Wad  low's  mental  picture  of  the  same 
scene,  because  it  had  always  occurred  to  him  that 
Hester  would  naturally  use  her  stronger  arm,  the 
right,  to  keep  her  lover  from  falling.  I  lis  right 
hand  would,  therefore,  be  left  free  to  clasp  that  of 
the  sin-born  child  whose  paternity  he  was  about  to 
acknowledge.  This  would  put  Pearl  on  her  father's 
right  when  the  three  confronted  the  crowd.  In  the 
circumstances,  Mr.  Wadlow  had  always  thought  it 
a  not-unsuitable  placing  of  them. 

As  to  Roger  Chillingworth,  these  facts  were 
elicited.  That  Wadlow  had  seen  the  old  man  a 
little  to  the  left  of  his  young  wife  at  the  moment 
when  the  other  three  persons  had  aligned  them- 
selves on  the  platform.  But  that  Meldrum  had 
located  him  for  that  tableau  a  step  in  the  rear  of 
Mr.  Dimmesdale  and  Hester,  his  head  alone  being 


?32  THE   ENCHANTED. 

visible  between  their  shoulders.  Hawthorne  not 
having  assigned  him  a  specific  place,  each  witness 
was  obliged  to  adjust  the  man  according  to 
some  preconception,  the  origin  of  which  was  un- 
known. 

"  I  rest  the  case,"  said  Finch,  "and  as  both  attor- 
ney and  judge  hereby  express  my  entire  confidence 
in  the  good  faith  of  the  witnesses.  Hut  it  is  quite 
another  thing  to  reaii/.e  for  myself  the  truth  of 
what  the}-  say.  Be  perfectly  candid  with  me  no\v. 
\Vliy  didn't  I  see  any  of  the  wonderful  sights  that 
yon  saw  in  front  of  Bra/.er's  building  .'  Is  my  terri- 
ble, critical  faculty,  as  you  call  it,  my  only  draw- 
back ?  " 

Meldrum  bethought  himself  of  the  proverb, 
"  Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend."  Two  or 
three  times  in  his  life  it  had  been  quoted  at  him  as 
a  prelude  for  some  piece  of  fault-finding  or  rebuke, 
carrying  in  its  tail  a  sting  that  struck-  deep  and  left 
a  fester,  such  as  jealousy  or  malice  might  have  been 
well  satisfied  to  inflict.  Having  himself  suffered 
from  the  unsparing  fidelity  of  friends,  he  did  not 
abuse  the  license  granted  by  Mr.  Finch.  lie  might 
have  told  that  gentleman  that  he  lacked  imagination 
or  was  too  conceited,  and  so  disqualified  from  com- 
ing under  the  power  of  the  enchanter.  Hut,  in  lieu 
of  these  and  other  faithful  wounds,  he  merely  said, 
"You  have  the  critical  disposition  in  excess,  my 


dear    fellow.      That    is   all.      Perhaps   you    will    out- 
grow it  in  time." 

"  Felix  and  I  were  troubled  the  same  way  when 
we  left  college  ;  but  that  was  eight  years  ago,  and 
you  have  been  out  only  two  years.  Besides,  you  are 
heavily  handicapped  in  one  way,  you  know,"  said 
\Vadlow. 

"  You  mean  as  vice-principal  of    an  old  classical 

k 
seh<  >ol  .'  " 

"  Fxactly.  You  find  that  the  young  people 
muler  you  rate  your  literary  abilities  the  more 
highly  in  proportion  to  the  severity  of  your  criti- 
cisms upon  all  authors.  As  long  as  you  admire 
nothing,  the}'  think"  you  know  everything.  I  have 
known  club  men  get  the  reputation  of  connoisseurs 
in  wines  by  always  swearing  that  there  was  not  a 
drop  in  the  house  fit  to  drinlc.  One  man  of  that 
kind  was  called  the  best  judge  of  cigars  in  New 
;  York,  because  none  that  the  house  committee  could 
ever  find  suited  him." 

Finch  smiled  again.  If  he  did  not  admit  the  im- 
putation, he  did  not  deny  it. 

"  Have  you  any  novel  or  essay  or  poem  in 
hand  ?  "  asked  Meldrum. 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  have  never  appeared  in  print,  and 
i  have  no  thought  of  doing  so.  But  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  the  question  has  a  direct  and  most  im- 
portant bearing  on  the  subject.  While  you  are  not 


234 

one  of  the  critics  so  caustically,  and,  I  must  say 
as  a  class,  unjustly  described  by  Disraeli  as  men 
who  have  failed  in  literature  and  art,  you  neverthe- 
less belong  to  a  class,  still  more  numerous  and 
formidable,  composed  of  those  who  have  never  at- 
tempted anything  in  literature  and  art.  They  have 
not  the  faintest  idea  of  the  immense  difficulties  en- 
countered by  nne  who  aspires  to  produce  a  literary 
work  at  once  original  and  impossibly  perfect.  Let 
them  once  try  it  themselves,  and  the  reMilt  would 
perhaps  make  them  more  tolerant  of  the  blemishes 
which  disfigure  the  writings  of  the  greatest  authors." 

"  I  kiss  the  rod,  and  thank  you  for  letting  me  off 
so  easily,"  cried  the  blithest  and  sunniest,  if  the 
most  perversely  critical,  of  hosts. 

The  cheerful  manner  in  which  Finch  took  his 
punishment,  for  such  it  was,  though  no  one  could 
have  administered  it  more  tenderly  than  Meldrum, 
impelled  that  judicious  censor  to  say  something 
deprecatory  of  himself  and  friend.  When  you  have 
possibly  wounded  the  amour  proprc  of  another  per- 
son, there  is  no  salve  for  the  hurt  like  a  little  low- 
ering of  yourself  in  his  eyes. 

"  The  truth  is,"  continued  Meldrum,  as  if  confi- 
dentially, "  Wadlow  and  I  arc  only  the  most  com- 
monplace and  the  humblest  of  hero-worshipers. 
We  admit  that  an  immeasurable  distance  lies  be- 
tween us  and  the  authors  of  genuine  creative  power, 


the  originators  of  schools  of  poetry  and  novels,  of 
whom  alone  I  am  no\v  speaking'.  \Ve  are  content 
to  pay  them  a  kind  of  blind  adoration,  if  you  please. 
\Vc  are  grateful  from  the  bottom  of  our  hearts  that 
\ve  are  living  in  an  age  th.it  produced  some  of  them, 
and  that  they  are  not  all  dead." 

"  \Ve  are  so  thankful  for  the  pleasure  they  have 
given  us,"  said  \\adlo\v,  cutting  into  the  discourse, 
"  that  it  seems  the  height  of  ingratitude  to  spy  (Hit 
their  faults.  For  us,  those  faults  do  not  exist.  And 
when  OIK:  of  these  great  geniuses  dies,  in  the  full- 
ness ot  his  powers,  we  feel  that  we  have  sustained 
an  irreparable  personal  loss.  For  then  has  come  an 
end  to  the  kind  of  work  which,  perhaps,  he  alone, 
out  of  all  the  hundreds  of  millions  of  men,  could 
have  done.  If  one  would  reflect  a  moment  on  the 
extreme  rarity  of  truly  original  literary  works  of 
high  order,  he  would  hail  them  with  delight  when 

:  they  appear  at  long  intervals,  instead  of  giving  them, 
as  too  man}-  persons  do,  a  grudging  welcome,  or 

i  even  brutally  repelling  them  as  if  the  authors,  being 
newcomers,  were  intruders  and  not  royal  benefactors 
of  the  human  race.  Being  born  hero-worshipers, 
Mcldrum  and  I  know  no  better  objects  of  our  idol- 

;    atry  than  the  great  novelists  and  poets." 

"  Who  have,  in  our  opinion,"  said  Meldrum,  tak- 
ing his  turn,  "  given  more  happiness  to  the  world 
and  done  it  more  real  good  than  the  great  states- 


236 

men,  tlic  great  theologians  and  preachers,  the  great 
moralists,  and  even  the  great  inventors.  We  are 
content  to  sit  blindly  enchanted  at  the  feet  of  these 
scarcest  of  great  men.  In  return  for  our  unalloyed 
faith  and  admiration,  they  give  us  about  a  half,  or 
shall  I  say  three  fourths,  of  the  pleasure  of  our 
lives,  in  reading  their  book's  over  and  over  again, 
some  of  them." 

"Besides  private  views  of  deaths  on  platforms  in 
public  streets.  Pardon  the  interruption  !  said 
Finch. 

Mcldrum  had  a  dread  of  becoming  tedious,  and 
he,  perhaps  needlessly,  took  this  remark-  as  a  hint 
to  close  what  was  tending  to  become  a  rhapsody. 

"  Excuse  my  enthusiasm,"  he  said,  "  it  was  run- 
ning away  with  me." 

"  In  order  to  be  admitted  to  the  select  company 
of  the  enchanted,  one  must  be  an  enthusiast?" 
asked  Finch. 

"  An  enthusiast  above  all,"  was  the  simultaneous 
answer. 

"Then  there  is  no  use  of  my  applying,"  retorted 
Finch,  with  an  expression  of  pride  on  his  frank, 
handsome  face,  as  if  he  had  proclaimed  the  one 
excellence  upon  which  he  most  plumed  himself. 

The  two  New  Yorkers  regretted  that  this  fine 
fellow,  to  whom  they  had  taken  so  strong  a  liking, 
should  be  debarred  by  his  temperament  and  educa- 


tion  from  sharing  in  the  innocent,  exalted  pleasures 
to  which  they  would  gladly  have  admitted  him  as  a 
companion  in  any  future  rambles  they  might  take 
through  Xe\v  England  on  the  track"  of  Emerson, 
Longfellow,  Lowell,  Whitticr,  and  Holmes.  Hut 
such  comradeship  \vas  plainly  out  of  the  question, 
now  that  Finch's  unfitness  to  be  a  practicable  third 
had  been  proved  by  trial  and  confessed  with  a  full- 
ness that  left  no  room  to  hope  for  its  removal. 

lint  Mcldrum  and  \Vadlow  clasped  the  hand  of 
their  kind  friend  and  hospitable  entertainer  no  less 
warmly,  and  expressed  the  hope  to  meet  him  in 
New  York,  at  an  earl}'  day,  no  less  sincerely,  when 
he  parted  from  them  at  the  station,  where  they  took 
the  three  o'clock-  train  for  home.  They  valued 
Finch  for  what  he  was:  a  genial,  companionable 
man,  a  good  fellow  and  a  stanch  friend,  whose 
misfortune  more  than  his  fault  it  was  that  the  place 

.   which  enthusiasm  should    have  held    in  his  nature 
was  usurped  by  a  critical  demon  who  could  not  be 

,  exorcised. 


CILMTFK    XVI 1 1. 
THI-;   I-'OUTUNATK  HAITKXINGS  ()!•'  A    [OUKNEY  WKST. 

A.\  evening  paprr,  bought  in  the  train  that  day, 
gave  to  \\'.i(lli)\\-  one  D|  the  greatest  pleasures  of 
his  life.  Fin-time  might  have  many  good  tilings  in 
stole  for  hi.s  professional  future,  but  never  could  she 
duplicate  tin:  rapture  lie  felt  on  u  inning  his  first 
important  ease  at  the  bar,  single-handed,  against  dis- 
tinguished veterans.  The  New  York  ( 'ourt  of  Ap- 
peals had  reversed  the  decision  of  the  lower  court 
on  a  difficult  law  point  and  vindicated  his  wisdom 
and  persistence  in  urging  his  client  to  fight  it  out  at 
any  cost.  His  client  was  one  of  the  great  life  insur- 
ance companies,  whose  young  and  able  president 
was  a  warm  personal  friend  of  \Yadlow,  and  had  put 
this  case  in  his  charge  as  a  special  auxiliary  coun- 
sel. The  old  regular  attorneys  of  the  corporation 
had  advised  a  compromise,  and  the  president  had 
sin  ill  hopes  of  gaining  the  suit,  which  involved  a 
large  sum  of  money,  besides  a  principle  never  be- 
fore adjudicated  upon.  But  \Vadlow,  after  care- 
fully examining  all  the  papers,  took  a  less  discour- 
aging view,  and  now  the  highest  court  of  the  State 
had  justified  his  faith,  sagacity,  and  courage,  all  of 

238 


Till-.    //. //V'A.V/.Vf/.V    ()/•    .1   JOL'tiXEY    ll'I'.S'/'.       239 

\\hich  L(ooi.l  qualities  were  largely  dra\vn  upon  in 
persuading  his  friend  not  to  yield  at  each  succes- 
sive reverse  in  the  protracted  litigation. 

The  next  morning,  on  reaching  his  dingy  little 
office  in  the  Van  der  Tromp  building,  \Yadhnv  re- 
ceived a  note  from  the  delighted  [)resident  of  the 
great  insurance  company,  congratulating  him  on  his 
brilliant  victory  and  offering  him  the  highly-salaried 
position  of  chief  counsel  of  the  corporation,  which 
had  become  vacant  by  death  during  XVadlow's  ab- 
sence abroad.  Thus,  at  a  bound,  he  sprang  from  a 
hand-to-mouth  practice  into  the  enjoyment  of  one 
of  the  most  valuable  pri/es  which  can  fall  to  the 
share  of  a  young  New  York  lawyer. 

lie  was  hardly  warm  in  his  new  seat — a  deep, 
high-backed,  softly-padded,  luxurious  arm-chair — 
before  the  company  received  notice  of  a  case  con- 
nected with  its  branch  office  at  Duluth,  Minn., 
which,  by  reason  of  its  novelty  and  the  large  inter- 
ests at  stake,  seemed  to  require  the  presence  of  the 
cool  head  and  iron  nerve  of  the  new  chief  counsel. 

Upon  being  notified  of  the  trip  and  the  duty, 
Wadlow  remembered  with  pleasure  that  Duluth  is 
situated  not  far  from  St.  Paul,  and  he  foresaw  the 
opportunity  of  visiting  that  city  and,  perchance,  of 
being  favored  by  another  sight  of  his  preference 
among  all  heroines — Amy  Robsart ;  for  by  that 
name  Amanda  Robison  always  rose  to  his  mind. 


240 

Not  inflammable,  not  highly  impressible,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  judicious  and  circumspect  as  became  one 
destined  to  attain  high  rank  in  his  profession,  \Vad- 
low  \vas  yet  conscious  of  sweetly  disturbing  pulsa- 
tions whenever  he  recalled  the  brown  hair  and  eyes, 
the  pure  complexion,  the  oval,  regular-featured  face, 
and  the  supple  figure  of  that  lady.  lie  had  not 
seen  her  since  they  parted  on  the  \Vengcrn  Alp. 
lUit  accident  had  befriended  him  to  the  extent  of 
opening  up  communication  with  her,  and  receiving 
in  reply  a  prettily  worded  little  note,  which  he  kept 
in  a  pigeon-hole  quite  apart  from  any  of  his  grave 
law  papers.  It  happened  in  this  wise: 

\Yhcn  Mcldrum  and  \Yadlow.  after  some  days' 
delay  at  Interlaken,  pursued  their  journey  to  Lu- 
cerne, they  stopped  at  the  Schwci/.erhof.  Looking 
idly  through  the  bundle  of  telegrams  which  were 
awaiting  delivery  to  guests  of  the  house',  Wadlow 
found  one  stamped,  "  International  Cable  Service," 
and  addressed  to  Miss  Amanda  Robison.  A  tele- 
gram from  America  to  Europe  may  be  safely 
assumed  to  be  of  some  importance  to  the  destined 
recipient ;  and  he  at  once  made  it  his  business  to 
ask  why  it  had  not  been  forwarded  to  the  lady, 
whose  next  address  had  doubtless  been  left  at  the 
bureau  of  the  hotel.  In  reply,  he  was  told  that  she 
had  failed  to  leave  the  needed  information  on  her 
departure,  or,  more  probably,  her  courier  had  neg- 


THE   HAPPENINGS   <>/•'  ./  JOCRXEY    WEST.      241 

lected  to  do  it  for  her.  T\vo  or  three  letters,  with 
American  postmarks,  bearing  her  name,  were  also 
discovered.  It  was  fortunate  for  her  that  \Yadl<>w 
had  made  this  find,  for,  with  the  single  exception  of 
Meldrum,  there  was  no  one  at  the  hotel  who  had 
chanced  to  observe,  in  reading  the  Galignani  of  that 
morning,  among  the  "  Personals,"  that  the  arch 
willow  and  her  friend  were  then  sojourning  at  the 
Hotel  Metropole,  Geneva.  \\'adlow  at  once  in- 
closed tlu:  letters  and  the  telegram  in  a  large  en- 
velope, with  his  own  card  (penciling"  below  his 
name  and  his  address,  "  Schwei/crhof,  Lucerne," 
and,  furthermore,  the  two  words  "  Wengern  Alp," 
as  a  hint  at  his  identity,  which  he  trusted  that  so 
bright  a  young  lady  would  not  fail  to  catch),  super- 
scribed it  with  the  proper  address,  and  stamped  and 
mailed  it  with  his  own  hand.  But  in  the  haste  to 
do  this  friendly  act,  he  had  not  omitted  to  make  a 
slight  verbal  correction  on  the  face  of  the  telegram 
and  likewise  on  one  of  the  letters. 

There  are  many  people  who  think  that  the  spell- 
ing of  other  names  than  their  own  is  of  no  sort  of 
consequence.  Carelessness,  and  not  design,  may  be 
supposed  to  be  the  explanation  of  those  slips  by 
which  middle  names  or  initials  are  dropped  out,  and 
even  a  sacred  surname  is  docked,  lengthened,  or 
otherwise  changed,  to  the  annoyance  of  its  lawful 
owner.  Now,  Miss  Amanda  Robison,  like  her  father 


242  Till:    KXC1IAXTED. 

before  her  (but  not  her  grandfather,  to  be  frank), 
ahvays  took  great  pains  to  \vrite  her  name  so  plainly, 
that  all  \vliD  read  it  could  not  help  seeing  that  it 
was  not  Robinson.  Type  could  not  have  made  it 
more  legible  than  she  did.  In  spite  of  these  and 
other  precautions,  intended  for  the  permanent  ex- 
clusion of  that  impertinent  letter  of  the  alphabet, 
there  were  actually  persons,  calling  themselves 
friends,  who  would  interpolate  the  "  //."  As  for  the 
rest  of  man  and  womankind,  no  recognition  of  the 
tremendous  difference  between  the  two  names  was 
ever  expected,  and  Miss  Amanda  Kobison  had  be- 
come compulsorily  reconciled  to  it. 

It  was  one  of  Wadlow's  peculiarities  to  be  observ- 
ant of  names  and  punctilious  in  spelling  them. 
From  the  time  when  he  ascertained  from  the  waiters 
and  post-boys  of  the  Kenilworth  Inn  exactly  how 
the  lady's  name  was  spelled  (they  had  read  it  in  large 
painted  letters  on  her  trunk's),  it  ran  no  more  risk  of 
being  transformed  by  him  to  Robi;/son  than  to 
Jackson  or  Peterson  or  Williamson.  Deeming  such 
trifling  with  patronymics  a  marked  breach  of  good 
manners,  he  did  as  he  would  be  done  by.  lie 
obliterated  the  superfluous  and  offensive  "  n  "  on 
the  telegram  and  on  the  letter  by  a  boldly  pen- 
ciled X.  And  he  was  very  careful  in  address- 
ing the  package  himself  to  dot  the  "  i  "  plainly 
and  make  the  following  "  s  "  conspicuous,  so  that 


ihere  could  be  no  possible  room  for  mistake 
ibout  it. 

A  few  days  afterward  came  a  sweet  little  note 
nun  thf  lady,  thanking  him  warmly  for  his  thought- 
fulness.  She  explained  that  the  telegram  gave  her 
immense  relief  from  anxiety.  For  it  assured  her  of 
[he  convalescence  of  her  dear  old  grandmother, 
whose  illness  had  been  so  alarming  that  Miss  kobi- 
son  had  made  all  her  preparations  to  return  home 
;ilonc.  Now  she  had  been  telegraphed  to  remain 
abroad  as  long  as  she  pleased,  as  the.- re  was  no  doubt 
of  her  grandmother's  speedy  recovery.  This  was 
signed,  out  of  the  fullness  of  her  heart,  "Yours 
[gratefully,  Amanda  Robison."  Indeed,  it  was  a 
proper  occasion  for  gratitude,  and  nothing  more 
than  that  was  conveyed  between  the  lines,  though 
\Vadlo\v  searched  for  something  else  in  those  blank 
spaces  many  and  man)-  a  time.  And  yet,  all  the 
while,  it  was  there  in  the  form  of  a  very  decided  re- 
gard for  a  man  as  good-looking,  sensible,  modest,  and 
well-bred  as  \Yadlow,  and  so  nice  also  in  another 
:respect.  For  Miss  Robison  had  noted  with  pleasure 
the  accurate  spelling  of  the  address  in  his  own  hand 
land  the  bold  erasure  of  the  obnoxious  "  n  "  in  the 
two  instances  referred  to,  by  the  same  pencil  evi- 
dently \vhich  had  been  employed  on  that  gentle- 
man's inclosed  card. 

Though    Wadlow    could     not     surmise     to    what 


244 

extent  Miss  Robison  would  be  pleased  to  see  him 
again,  lie  was  fairly  entitled  to  think  that  she  would 
at  least  be  polite  to  him  when  the}-  next  met.  Had 
he  been  less  well-balanced,  he  might  have  persuaded 
his  friend  to  deflect  from  his  line  of  travel  through 
Germany  and  run  down  to  Geneva,  with  the  hope  of 
meeting  the  lady  or  of  following  her  up  till  they 
should  meet.  Meldmm,  though  not  susceptible  to 
the  charms  of  even  the  archest  and  richest  of 
widows,  would  have  consulted  to  this  alteration  of 
plans  without  much  pressing.  lUit  \Vadlow  con- 
cluded, on  reflection,  that  the  proposed  pursuit  of 
the  two  charming  Americans  would  lower  himself 
and  friend  too  near  to  the  level  of  the  titled  ad- 
mirers and  fortune  hunters  who  were  still  in  hot 
pursuit  of  the  widow  (all  the  continental  papers 
containing  frequent  reference  to  the  fact).  And  so 
he  resolutely  smothered  his  rising  inclination  to  sec 
Miss  Robison  once  more  in  Kurope  all  the  more 
easily,  because  he  felt  a  strong  presentiment  that 
that  privilege  would  be  his,  some  day,  in  America. 
And  now  there  was  a  possibility  that  lie  might 
soon  taste  the  deferred  pleasure,  for  the  New  York 
journals  had,  within  a  day  or  two,  trumpeted 
the  return  of  Mrs.  Josiah  J.  Greatfield — "The 
Flour  Queen  ;  the  Minneapolis  millionairess," — from 
her  brilliant  European  tour;  "  still  heart-whole  and 
unprecfnptcd  we  arc  glad  to  say  ;"  "her  belt  filled 


THE    //.//Y'/:.\7.V(7.Y   01<    A  JOURXEY    IVKST.      245 

with  the  scalps  of  her  conquests,"  etc.,  etc.  One 
paper  declared:  "  We  have  it  on  the  best  authority 
that  she  has  refused  one  Bourbon  prince,  two 
French  dukes,  four  Italian  marquises,  six  German 
counts,  and  two  Knglish  lords;"  and  patriotically 
added,  "American  husbands  are  good  enough  for 
Mrs.  Josiah  J.  Greatfield."  Such  were  a  few  of  the 
phrases  in  which  the  reporters  strove  to  do  justice 
to  the  wealth  and  social  position  of  that  lad}'.  A 
line,  in  the  same  connection,  sufficed  to  mention  the 
return,  safe  and  sound,  in  her  company,  of  Miss 
Amanda  Robinson  (always  Robinson  in  the  papers), 
of  St.  Paul,  "the  fail'  proprietress  of  the  magnifi- 
cent Opera  1  louse  of  that  city."  Wadlow,  while 
!  thinking  no  less  of  Mrs.  Greatfield  because  the 
press  had  taken  such  liberties  with  her,  was,  on  the 
whole,  pleased  (though  it  was  really  no  business  of 
his)  that  the  other  lady  had  been  made  the  subject 
of  no  such  "journalistic  enterprise." 

When    Wadlow    told    his  best    of  friends   of    his 

intended  visit  to  the  principal    cities  of   Minnesota, 

,  Meldrum     expressed    a   wish     to   accompany     him, 

•  thereby    anticipating    the     request    the    other    was 

-about  to  make.     "When  we  arc  at    St.    Paul,   yon 

know,"  said    Meldrum,  "  we    can   try    our  luck   on 

so>ne    scene    from    Hiawatha — say    at     Minnehaha 

Falls — where  a  part  of  the  action  of  the  poem  takes 

place." 


246 

\Vucllo\v  had  not  thought  of  that,  so  engrossed 
had  he  been  with  the  sole  desire  of  meeting  Miss 
Robison  again. 

"  Ye— yes,"  he  replied,"!  was  on  the  point  of 
mentioning  the  same  tiling,." 

It  is  painful  to  reflect  that  such  duplicity  in 
the  form  of  secretive  reserve  should  be  practiced  by 
any  person  to  the  most  confiding  of  Iriends.  Hut  it 
is  true  that  \Yadlo\v  was  unwilling  to  tell  even  Mel- 
drum  the  real  object  of  his  side  trip  to  the  capital 
of  Minnesota.  As  for  the  latter,  he  was  perfectly 
sincere  when  he  added,  as  an  afterthought,  "And 
may  be  we  shall  see  the  widow  and  Amy  Robsart 
again,  t  here  or  thereabi  >ut.  That  would  be  pleasant, 
wouldn't  it  ?  " 

\Vadlow  readily  admitted  that  it  would,  lie 
knew,  from  his  friend's  manner,  that  the  \\ido\v  was 
not  occupying  any  part  "f  his  thoughts,  save  as  a 
sprightly  variety  of  womankind  which  Alcldrum 
liked  to  stud)"  with  the  mingled  interest  and  com- 
posure of  the  popular  but  predetermined  and  fore- 
armed bachelor. 

The  business  at  Duluth  having  been  put  in  satis- 
factory train,  the  two  friends  proceeded  to  Minne- 
apolis. On  their  way  thither  the)'  observed  freight 
cars,  piled  high  with  the  Halloon  brand  of  Family 
Flour,  outward  bound.  As  they  neared  the  city, 


7 '///•:  //.;/7'/..v/.v<;.s'  or  .1  JOCK.VKY  irr.sr.    247 

thi'  hoard  fences  adjoining  the  railroad  \vcrc  radiant 
with  threat  colored  placards  announcing  the  engage- 
ment of  the  Italian  Grand  ( )pera  Company  at  the 
kobison  Grand  (  )pera  House,  St.  Paul,  for  three 
nights  only.  These  little  incidents  were  the  most 
enlivening  of  the  trip.  The\'  confirmed,  as  only 
such  realistic  evidence  can,  those  newspaper  para- 
graphs, the  very  repetition  of  which,  somehow, 
seems  to  increase  their  improbability.  Meldrum 
looked  tranquilly  at  the  passing  heaps  of  flour, 
merely  regretting  the  absence  of  the  widow's  name 
from  the  head  of  the  barrels.  lUit  \Yadlow  felt  a 
pang  as  he  measured  with  his  eye  the  length  of  the 
letters  composing  the  word  "  kobison  "  on  the  flam- 
ing posters.  It  was  a  familiarity  bordering  on  pro- 
fanation. 

Arrived  at  Minneapolis,  they  stopped  at  "The 
West,"  on  the  strength  of  the  widow's  emphatic 
eulogitim  of  that_hotel. 

It  is  a  good  and  safe  plan  in  every  city  of  the 
world,  which  a  tourist  may  visit,  to  take  The  Drive. 
No  matter  how  large  the  city  may  be,  there  is  only 
one  The  Drive  in  it.  I>y  adopting  it  without  ques- 
tion, and  leaving  one's  self  unreservedly  in  the  hands 
of  the  coachman,  one  is  sure  to  see  the  best  park 
that  the  place  can  show,  with  rides  along  lakes, 
!  ponds,  or  rivers,  if  any,  including  views  of  the  finest 
residences  in  the  fashionable  quarter,  with  a  ccr- 


taint)'  (if  it  is  the  season  and  the  right  hour  of  the 
day  is  chosen)  of  seeing  Everybody — since  Every- 
body invariably  lakes  The  Drive  at  the  same  time. 
If  Mrs.  Great  field  was  at  Minneapolis,  there  was  the 
same  assurance  of  meeting  that  prominent  society 
personage  in  the  course  of  The  Drive  on  a  brilliant 
November  afternoon,  as  if  an  appointment  had  been 
made  for  it.  I>oth  Meldrum  and  \Vadlow  expressed 
the  hope  that  a  sight  of  her  fresh,  laughing  face 
would  be  among  the  pleasures  in  reserve  for  them; 
the  former  adding  that,  <>f  course,  there  could  ''be 
no  such  luck'  as  finding  Amy  Kob-,ar!  \\-ith  her,"  to 
which  \Vadlo\v  responded,  suppressing  a  sigh,  "I 
suppose  not." 

Nevertheless,  it  did  happen  that,  as  they  were 
skirting  tin-  Mississippi  at  a  point  where  they  got  a 
fine  view  of  St.  Anthony's  Falls,  they  saw  approach- 
ing a  span  of  high  steppers,  and  perched  above 
them  a  portly  coachman,  close-shaven,  rubicund, 
English  ;  and  just  over  his  seat  appeared  the  bril- 
liantly bonneted  heads  of  Mrs.  Josiali  J.  Greatfield 
and  Miss  Amanda  Robison.  They  were  leaning 
back  in  an  open  landau,  with  that  set  and  solemn 
expression  of  face  which  Everybody  wears  on  The 
Drive,  and  which  is  only  momentarily  relaxed  into  a 
mechanical  smile  in  recognition  of  one's  friends  by 
the  way.  l$ut  there  was  no  pulling  of  muscles  like 
strings  to  produce  the  smile  which  illumined  the 


y/.//7'A.\v.\ (/.v  <>/•  ./  /OI:K.V/-:Y  ir/-.s/'.     -'49 

faces  of  both  ladies  (and  a  bit  of  a  blush  thrown 
in  for  the  maiden)  \vhen  the  two  carriages  came 
closer.  The  raising  of  two  hats  was  responded  to 
b)'  the  dipping  of  two  parasols.  At  a  signal  from 
the  widow,  the  carriage  stopped  in  the  middle  of 
the  wide  road  and  the  other  team  drove  alongside 
of  it. 

"  Let  us  make  no  mystery  of  it,"  said  the  widow, 
who  was  the  first  to  speak.  "Though  we  have- 
never  been  formally  introduced,  you  know  perfectly 
well  who  we  are  and  we  know  who  you  are.  \Vc 
have  read  about  you  in  the  papers,  ha,  ha  !  " 

The  widow's  allusion,  here,  was  to  a  paragraph 
which  had  appeared  in  the  Uuluth  Hustler,  ami  been 
copied  b}r  the  journals  of  the  Twin  Cities,  highly 
complimentary  to  the  personal  and  professional 
character  of  \Vadlow.  The  facts  of  it  had  been 
obligingly  supplied  to  the  reporter  of  the  Hustler 
by  Meldrum,  who  had  been  sought  out,  in  the 
absence  of  his  friend,  for  an  interview  upon  the  sub- 
ject. Much  interest  attached  to  Wadlow's  visit 
to  Duluth  on  account  of  his  known  relations  as 
chief  counsel  to  the  Universe  Life  Insurance  Com- 
pany. The  legal  question  at  issue  there  affected 
many  policy-holders  in  the  company,  not  only  at 
Duluth  but  all  through  Minnesota.  The  reporter 
not  being  able  to  extract  from  Meldrum  any  per- 
sonal data  concerning  himself,  had  ventured  on  his 


own  responsibility  to  speak  of  him  as  a  "  gentle- 
man "  and  a  "scholar,"  "well  known  ami  highly 
respected  in  \e\v  York"  a  generalization  quite 
safely  drawn  from  his  face,  manner,  and  attire. 

The  widow's  child-like  laugh  showed  how  keenly, 
at  times,  she  enjoyed  set  tin;.;"  conventionalities  aside. 
J>ut  trust  her  not  to  do  so  for  men  who  would  for  a 
moment  presume  on  her  kindly  relaxation  of  social 


which  one  was  a  full  dost    for  an  adult. 

Meldrum  and  YVadlow  gratefully  acknowledged 
the  ladies'  goodness  in  recalling  them  t<>  mind.  It 
is  so  easy  and  almost  natural  for  people  to  drop  at 
home  the  casual  acquaintances  they  make  abroad. 
Then  followed  a  rattling"  fire  of  reminiscences  about 
their  Furopcan  trip  and  other  pleasant  nothings. 
The  object  all  around  was  not  to  stop  talking,  under 
cover  of  which  Wad  low  made  an  inspection  of  the 
visible  charms  of  Miss  Robison.  She  had  a  height- 
ened color,  partly  tan  and  the  rest  a  pleasurable 
flush.  The  Atlantic  voyages,  forth  and  back,  had 
produced  the  not  uncommon  result  of  plumping  the 
figure  at  points  where  the  typical  American  girl 
falls  a  little  short  of  the  sculptor's  ideal  and  does 
not  quite  meet  the  reasonable  views  of  her  young 
fellow  countrymen.  Altogether,  a  change  from  very 
good  to  better.  No  such  improvement  had  been 
needed  in  the  widow.  She  remained,  as  she  had 


Tin-,   i!  .//'/'/-..v/.Vf/.s-  (»/••    /   /c>r/v'.v/-;r  //  A.V/'.     251 

first  been  seen  by  Mcldrum,  who  was  mentally  com- 
paring notes  with  himself,  the  same  pleasing  com- 
bination of  curves  which  sank  -it  one  point  only  to 
swell  at  another. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  saul  the  widow,  abrupt  ly*  "  I 
am  g"ii)g  to  press  you  into  service  for  opinions. 
lMea-;e  follow  mv  carriage."  This,  in  a  way  that 
relieved  the  request  of  all  singularity.  It  was  one 
of  her  gift;  that  the  strangest  thin-  she  did  excited 
no  surprise. 

Meldnim  and  \Vadlow  declared  themselves  en- 
tireh'  at  her  command,  and  their  carriage  fell  into 

•  O 

line  behind  hers. 

After  a  pleasant  little  drive  alon;^  the  river  bank", 
passing  new  and  handsome  houses,  which  marked 
the  prosperous  extension  of  the  city,  Mrs.  (Treat- 
field  signaled  a  stop  in  front  of  a  large,  unoccupied 
lot  of  ground,  picturesquely  situated.  The  gentle- 
men followed  the  ladies  in  descending  from  their 
carriage  and  passing  into  this  fine  piece  of  land 
through  a  gateway.  Arriving  at  the  center  of  the 
tract  the  widow  paused,  and  asked,  "  How  is  this  for 
a  building  site  ?  " 

Meldrum  said,  'Magnificent;"  and  Wadlow, 
"  Superb  ;  just  the  place  for  a  private  residence." 

"  And  that  is  why  I  think  it  none  too  good  for  a 
woman's  business  college,"  returned  Mrs.  Great- 
field,  with  a  glow  of  pride,  "  though  the  trustees 


don't  agree  \vitli  inc.  They  never  do,  \vhcn  1  pro- 
pose any  little  scheme  of  benevolence  for  my 
fellow  creatures.  l!ut  I  shall  have  my  own  \vay 
here."  She  patteil  the  ground  with  lier  foot  and 
pursed  her  lips  in  the  most  determined  manner. 
"The  plan  covers  two  objects,"  she  continued,  with 
a  pretty  seriousness.  "  In  the  first  place,  the 
country  is  filling  up  with  widows  and  spinsters  (a 
sly  glance  at  Miss  Rohisoii)  who  have  money,  which 
a  great  man}'  other  people  want  to  get  away  from 
them.  (There  was  nothing  of  cynicism  in  the 
widow's  manner.  She  spoke  as  if  only  mentioning 
an  undeniable  fact.)  Everybody  presumes  upon 
their  weakness  and  ignorance,  and.  shall  I  say,  their 
sweetly  confiding  natures?  ha,  ha!  to  advise 
them  about  investments.  Whether  this  advice  is 
interested  or  disinterested,  the  result  is  equally  bad 
if  the  money  is  lost  in  buying  cats  and  dogs,  as 
Mr.  Grcatficld  used  to  call  'em."  She  paused  to 
catch  her  breath  and  went  on.  "  Now,  I  don't  see 
why  these  unprotected  females,  who  depend  at 
present  on  trustees,  lawyers,  bankers,  possibly 
clergymen,  and,  undoubtedly,  brothers,  for  advice 
about  money  matters,  should  not  be  taught  to 
manage  their  affairs  for  themselves,  just  as  well  as 
you  hard-headed  men  do." 

"  Which  is  not  saying  much  for  some  of  us,"  said 
Meldrum. 


"  111  business  matters  men  arc  apt  to  be  more 
foolish  than  women,  according  to  my  experience," 
added  Wadlow. 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  the  widow,  laughingly.  "  I 
know  that  I\Ir.  Greatfield  had  a  pretty  poor  opinion 
of  men's  business  capacity,  but  then  he  was  un- 
commonly sharp  himself.  But  I  think  yon  \vill 
agree  with  me  that  there  is  a  growing  class  of 
women  in  America  who  do  nerd,  for  their  safety,  to 
be  instructed  in  sound  and  approved  business 
methods.  Men  who  lose  their  money  through 
ignorance  or  overconfidence  ought  to  know  better  ; 
for  they  have  the  chance  of  seeing  ami  knowing 
how  business  is  done.  Hut  American  women,  at 
least,  have  few  such  opportunities.  It  is  these  I 
would  furnish  at  the  Woman's  Business  College. 
There,  now,  what  do  you  say  to  it?  Is  it  all 
'nonsense,'  'moonshine,'  'chimerical,'  'visionary,' 
as  the  trustees  tell  me  ?" 

"  Admirable,"  answered  Meldrum,  "  and  feasible 
— that  is,  if  the  widows  and  maiden  ladies  will  take 
your  strictly  sensible  view  of  it  and  become  students 
at  the  college." 

"  And  if  they  don't,  that  will  be  their  loss.  The 
Woman's  Business  College  is  going  to  be  built  all 
the  same,  as  I  will  presently  explain  under  my 
'  secondly.' ' 

"  It  will  take   clients  from   me,  I  have  no  doubt," 


said  \YadIo\\,  "  bul  I  am  \\ith  you  heart  and  suul  in 
an\'  project  to  teach  what  we  will  call  the  income- 
class  of  American  ladies,  to  understand  and  ap- 
j»ly  business  principles  to  their  private  affairs. 
The}-  are  n<>w  altogether  too  much  at  the  mercy  of 
men,  whom  the\-  amiably  tru.^l  ;  but  who,  when 
honest,  are  often  less  competent  even  than  them- 
selves to  talc  cure  of  money." 

"  Thanks,  buth,"  exclaimed  the  widow,  with  great 
glee.  "  Still,  keeping  to  the  lir-t  branch  of  my  sub- 
ject, since  you  encourage  me,  I  propose  to  endow  a 
full  faculty  of  professors  all  white-haired  and  ven- 
erable, of  course  ha,  ha  !  who  .-diall  give  lectures 
and  teach  by  example.  '1  here  will  be  professors  of 
book-keeping  by  double  and  single  entry.  There 
will  be  a  law  professor  to  lecture  on  wills,  contracts, 
powers  of  attorney,  promissory  notes,  indorsements, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Just  the  chair  for  my  legal  friend  here,"  inter- 
rupted Aleldrum,"  if  he  were  not  disqualified  by  your 
requirements  about  white  hair  and  venerablencss." 

"  Perhaps  we  will  make  an  exception  in  his  case," 
said  the  widow,  joining  in  the  general  laugh. 

Wad  low  expressed  his  delight  and  bound  himself 
to  deliver  a  course  of  twelve  lectures  on  contracts, 
free,  if  invited. 

"  Breach  of  promise  included  ?  "  asked  the  widow 
archly. 


THE    //.//'/'/•.. \7.\'<;.s    01-    .1  JOCK.YEY    ll'ES/'.      .155 

"  'I'll, it  above  all  ;  for  there  the  ladies  always  have 
ni}-  fullest  sympathies,"  was  the  gallant  reply. 

••  My  most  important  professorship,"  resumed  the 
widow,  "will  be  that  of  investments.  The  man  I 
have  in  view  for  that  place  is  head  book-keeper  in 
an  old  stock  commission  house,  lie  knows  fmni 
experience  the  humbug  and  the  danger  of  invest- 
ments in  general.  lie  bclie\is  in  nothing  but  fir^t 
ni<  >rtga;.;vs  on  city  piopeity,  government,  state, 
municipal,  gas  and  \\ater  bonds  what  he  calls  gilt- 
edge  securities  \\herc,  il  \  on  don't  make  so  much, 
you  can  always  get  your  m»ney  back." 

"  Your  college  will  never  be.  popular  with  mining 
companies  and  stockbrokers,"  remarked  \Yadlow. 

"  It  is  against  them,  particularly,  that  I  am  going 
to  start  it.  1  have  been  there  myself  !  ha,  ha  !" 

It  ma}'  here  be  said,  that  before  Meldrum  and 
Wad  low  left  .Minneapolis  the}-  learned  from  well- 
informed  residents  that  the  widow  herself  needed 
no  course  of  lectures  at  her  proposed  college.  Soon 
after  the  death  of  the  lamented  "  King  Miller,"  as 
he  was  called,  she  had  been  the  prey  of  numberless 
schemers  and  sponges,  and  at  last,  in  self-defense, 
had  studied  and  mastered,  with  her  quick  mind,  the 
'elementary  principles  of  business.  It  was  firmly  bc- 
ilieved  in  the  community  that  she  could  manage  her 
iflour  mills  better  than  the  trustees,  if  they  would 
;let  her. 


256 

"  Ma}'  I  make  a  suggestion,"  inquired  Meldrum, 
with  mirth  in  his  eye. 

"  I  invite  it." 

"  K.-tabli.sh  a  professorship  of  No-— N — O — No; 
always  NO!" 

"Hut  the  women  who  will  come  to  my  college 
know  how  to  say  "no  "  already  pretty  well,  I  think. 
I  la,  ha!  " 

"Doubtless,"  was  the  response,  as  Meldrum 
plated  hi.s  hand  upon  his  heart,  "  and  man}'  are  the 
sufferers  in  consequence.  J>ut  while  the}'  can  say 
'  Xo  '  in  lift}'  wax's  to  keep  off  an  undesirable  sui- 
tor, they  say  '  Yes,'  too  often  in  business  matters, 
when  'No 'should  be  the  one  and  only  \\ord,  stuck 
to  first,  last,  and  ever}'  time.  A  professor  might 
brace  them  up  a  bit  just  there." 

"I  xvill  make  a  note  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Greatfield, 
who  welcomed  original  ideas  for  her  pet  institution. 

Whatever  might  be  said  of  the  feasibility  of  the 
first  part  of  the  scheme  as  hereinbefore  outlined, 
there  could  be  no  question  that  the  second  part, 
which  the  xvidow  then  proceeded  to  explain,  was 
entirely  practical.  This  was  to  give  free  tuition  for 
two  hundred  young  women,  xvho  should  be  in- 
structed in  book-keeping,  the  duties  of  cashiers,  and 
all  the  higher  grades  of  accounting  and  money 
handling  required  in  any  business  establishment 
whatever.  The  course  of  instruction,  without 


/•///•:  //.;/'/'/.. v/.vo.s-  or  A  ywA'.v/-;r  U'F.ST.    ^57 

charge,  would  be  as  full  as  could  be  had,  for  pay,  at 
the  best  men's  business  college  in  the  United  States. 
She  believed,  and  she  was  right, — her  observations 
in  Kurope  confirming  her  in  it, --that  women  have 
the  natural  capacity  of  becoming  readier,  more  accu- 
rate, and  neater  book-keepers  than  men  ;  and  that 
their  innate  honest}',  fidelity,  and  freedom  from 
vices  make  them  more  trustworthy  than  men  in 
places  where  the  temptations  for  embezzlement  are 
strong-.  She  ardently  hoped  that  her  college  would 
fit  a  large  number  of  women  ever}-  year  to  take 
such  responsible  positions  at  good  salaries,  and  thus 
to  enlarge  the  self-supporting  area  of  her  sex.  She 
should  depend  on  the  tuition  money  and  lecture- 
fees  of  the  richer  class  of  students,  specified  under 
the  first  head,  to  pay  in  part  the  running  expenses 
of  the  college.  But  the  remainder  she  was  ready  to 
provide  out  of  her  own  pocket. 

So  sensible  and  discreet   had   Meldrum  and  Wad- 
low  proved    themselves   in  their   treatment   of   this 
•   scheme    as    unfolded,   that     before    carriages    were 
I   resumed,    in    different   directions,  the     widow     had 
invited   the   gentlemen   to   call    at   her   house   that 
evening  and  see  the  architect's  plans  of  the  college. 
Mrs.  Greatficld  was  well  qualified  by  her  knowledge 
of  human  nature  (the   male  variety  in  especial)  to 
fill  a  chair  of  that  difficult  science  ;  and  she  might 
have  clone  much  worse  than  to  found  one,  with  her- 


self  as  the  incumbent,  for  the  instruction  of 
moneyed  widows  and  spinsters.  Xo  flattering  in- 
troductions from  any  third  parties  could  have  pro- 
cured for  Meldrum  and  \Vadlow  a  greater  degree  of 
confidence  than  she  justly  reposed  in  them  on  her 
own  judgment.  She  knew  by  instinct  and  experi- 
ence that  they  were  not  fortune-hunters,  and  that 
the  elder  of  them  was  not  cherishing  any,  even  the 
remotest,  designs  upon  herself;  though  >he  had  no 
doubt  from  certain  poorly-concealed  tokens  that  the 
younger  was  "  interested  "  (which  is  the  mild  term 
used  at  that  earl\'  stage  of  the  complaint)  in  Miss 
Robison,  and,  futhermore,  she  happened  to  know 
that  that  lad}'  was  more  kindly  disposed  toward 
\Yadlo\v  than  toward  an}'  other  man  she  had  ever 
met. 

A  pleasant  evening  was  passed  at  the  widow's 
house  (one  of  the  finest  in  Minneapolis)  in  that 
interchange  of  impressions  of  travel  which,  perhaps, 
affoi'ds  the  shortest  of  all  known  cuts  to  close 
acquaintanceship.  This  was  helped  along  by  those 
accidental  contacts  of  hands,  which  result  from  the 
shuffling  and  inspection  of  mounted  photographs. 
The  ground  plans  and  elevations  of  the  proposed 
college  required  a  good  deal  of  careful  stud}7,  with 
much  indication  of  points  by  fingers  more  or  less 
tapering.  So  that,  when  Mcldrum  and  Wadlow 
rose  to  go,  at  an  hour  for  the  lateness  of  which  they 


Till-.    //.//VY-.. \7.\V.V  01>   A  JOL'RXEY   ll'EST.      ?$<) 

i[):)l(\^i/.cel,  nothing  seemed  more  natural  to  the 
'our  than  an  arrangement  for  visiting  Minuehaha 
J'alls  the  next  day  ami  assembling  a^ain  at  ni^ht  in 
\li>s  Robison's  [)rivate  box  at  her  Opera  House, 
.vhere  the  season  was  to  open  with  "  Lucia." 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

WITH     I.MNCI  i;i.].M\v     AT     MINNEIIAIIA     FALLS. 

IN  the  language  of  the  guide  books,  Minnehalin 
Falls  .have  been  "immortalized"  l>y  Longfellow. 
Tlu:  idea  of  conferring  immortality  upon  a  waterfall 
will  perhaps  not  l>ear  cold  analysis.  lint  the  uncriti- 
cal reader  accepts  the  statement  of  the  compilers 
of  those  works  as  a  concise  tribute  to  the:  power  of 
an  enchanter.  When  the  admirer  (if  "  Hiawatha" 
first  sees  the  rails  of  Latudiing  Water,  he  sees 
them  (unless  he  will full\'  hardens  his  heart  against 
first  impressions)  through  the  prism  of  that  beauti- 
ful poem. 

"  Charming  "  "  lovely,"  "  ver}'  fine,"  were  some  of 
the  trite  words  that  came  unsummoned  to  the  lips 
of  the  two  friends  as  they  stood  by  the  side  of  the 
silent  ladies  at  a  point  favorable  for  observation. 
A  pair  of  brown  eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure  at 
these  encomiums.  Miss  Robison  always  felt  sonic 
apprehension  in  showing  off  the  Falls  to  her  friends 
"from  the  East,"  lest  the}-  should  say  something 
disparaging  of  them,  or  come  too  far  short  of  her 
own  admiration  of  them  as  a  native  and  land  owner 
of  St.  Paul.  In  her  capacity  of  Minncapolitan,  Mrs. 


//7/7/    /.  0.  Y(  ;/••/•:/.  I  f>  II'  AT  .W.V.VA7/./  If.  1   FALLS.      2<n 

Grcatfiehl  was  no  loss  anxious  for  the  good  opinion 
of  her  quests  on  this  ticklish  point  ;  for  the  Falls  of 
Minnehaha  arc  situated  about  half  way  between  the 
Twin  Cities  and  are  the  one  thins.;  concerning  whose 
grandeur  the)'  do  not  dispute. 

"  You  said  last  night,  that  you  would  try  to 
reaii/.e  some  scene  from  'Hiawatha,'  to  show  us 
how  you  do  it.  Miss  Robison  and  I  are  just  dying 
to  sec  it  done.  Of  course,  poor  creatures  like  our- 
selves haven't  imagination  enough  to  do  it,  too." 

Meldrum  and  \Vadlow  had  already  decided   that 

the   widow's  peculiar  temperament  unfitted  her  for 

the    fanciful   task.      But    they  held  another  opinion 

about    Miss    Robison.     One    of  them    was  anxious 

to  subject    her  to  a  test.     And  they  had  privately 

concocted  a  little  scheme  to  that  end. 

"  Please  do,"  urged  that  young  lady. 

Both    gentlemen     expressed     their    eagerness    to 

•make  an  experiment  of  the  kind,  and  their  hope,  if 

not  exactly  belief,  that   it  would  prove  successful. 

i  Wad  low    pulled  a    copy    of  "  Hiawatha "    from    his 

ipockct  and  thumbed  its  pages  with  a  hypocritical 

ipretensc  of  searching  for  something,  just  as  if  the 

jv'ery  passages  to  be  illustrated  had  not  been  chosen 

yy  them  last  night  before  retiring. 

"  Ah,  I  have  it !  "  said  he,  at  length.  "  There  is 
:hc  tableau  of  the  Ancient  Arrow-maker  and  his 
laughter  Minnehaha,  at  the  door  of  his  wigwam, 


262  THE   ENCHANTED. 

which  was  pitched,  the  poet  tells  us,  within  sight  of 
these  very  falls.  IIo\v  shall  we  cast  the  charac- 
ters ?" 

"I'll  be  the  Ancient  Arrow-maker,"  cried  Mel- 
druni,  as  if  the  thought  were  impromptu. 

"And  who  should  be  Minnchaha  but  myself?" 
exclaimed  the  widow,  with  a  succession  of  ha,  ha's! 
which  sounded  like  the  echo  of  the  Indian  maiden's 
name.  "  Let  me  be  Laughing  Water;  ha,  ha  !  " 

"  You  fit  the  part  exactly,"  said  Wadlow. 

"And  what  will  you  and  Miss  Robison  be  do- 
ing'?" asked  the  widow. 

"  The  poet  leaves  us  nothing  to  do  but  look  on  and 
try  to  realize  the  scene  between  you  and  my  friend," 
explained  Wadlow.  "  We  will  consider  the  per- 
formance for  the  benefit  of  Miss  Robison.  I  will 
coach  her,  if  she  will  let  me,  in  the  art  and  mystery 
of  conjuring  up  and  giving  reality  to  the  vivid 
descriptions  of  the  poet.  When  one  learns  how  to 
do  it,  no  such  assistance  as  you  and  Mr.  Meldrum 
will  lend  is  needed,  as  we  explained  to  you  last 
night.  Given  the  locality  where  the  scene  is  laid, 
it  is  reproduced  easily  enough — with  practice." 

"  I  am  calmer   to   learn,"  said   Miss   Robison,  who 

o 

had  been  deeply  interested  in  what  she  had  heard 
of  the  brilliant  work  of  this  kind  performed  by  the 
two  gentlemen  and  believed  herself  a  "subject" 
only  needing  development. 


ll'ITlf  LONGFELLOW  AT  MIXXE1IA1IA  PALLS.      263 

"  Beginners  should  have  every  help  possible  to 
assist  in  creating  the  illusion,"  said  Meldrum.  "If 
there  \vas  only  something  to  represent  a  wigwam." 

"  There  used  to  be  a  little  summer-house  just 
nver  that  knoll,"  remarked  Mrs.  Grcatfield,  point- 
ing to  a  rise  of  ground.  "  Let  us  sec." 

The  four  walked  along  a  path,  chatting  as  the}' 
went,  and  were  delighted  to  find  a  rustic  kiosk, 
commanding  a  good  side  view  of  the  falls,  and, 
what  was  more  to  the  purpose,  deserted  just  then. 
It  was  a  round  structure,  with  a  conical  roof,  and, 
so  far,  not  wholly  unlike  the  Indian  wigwam  of 
pictures. 

"A  piece  of  luck,"  cried  Meldrum.  ''And  there 
is  nobody  insight.  Now  for  the  experiment,  before 
we  are  overrun  with  spectators." 

In  his  part  of  the  Ancient  Arrow-maker  (whose 
Indian  name  Longfellow  withholds)  Meldrum  had 
only  to  sit  at  the  door  of  the  supposed  wigwam  and 
chip  arrow-heads.  In  personating  Minnehaha,  Mrs. 
Greatfield  was  merely  required  to  look  handsome 
and  to  be  plaiting  mats  of  flags  and  rushes.  She 
must  be  seated  by  her  father's  side.  Opposite 
the  entrance  to  the  hut  was  a  narrow  flat  rock", 
•r  which  served  for  both,  without  crowding.  Mel- 
i  drum  picked  up  two  small  fragments  of  stone  at  his 
feet  and  began  to  strike  one  against  the  other,  after 
the  manner  of  the  primeval  savage  shaping  his 


arrow-heads.  Mrs.  Grcatficld,  with  C(]ual  adapt- 
ivencss,  broke  off  the  dry  stalks  of  some  tall,  slen- 
der weeds  near  her  and  made  the  motions  of 
plaiting  them.  It  only  remained  for  the  two  obser- 
vers, stationed  a  hundred  feet  away,  t<>  build  up 
the  Ancient  Arrow-maker  and  his  lovely  daughter 
out  of  these  scanty  materials. 

"  I  low  about  the  Indian  man's  clothes  ?"  asked 
Miss  Robison,  with  some  misgivings.  "  Longfel- 
low does  not  describe  them." 

"For  November,"  said  \Vadlow,  "I  should  put 
him  into  a  medium  suit  of  light-tanned  deer  skin. 
Ihit  anything  will  do.  Cany  out  your  own  idea  of 
an  Indian  as  nearly  as  possible." 

Miss  Robison's  own  idea  of  an  Indian,  formed  by 
seeing  specimens  at  stations  on  the  Pacific  Railroad, 
was  of  an  ugly  man  in  a  dirt}"  blanket  with  a  bat- 
tered stove-pipe  hat,  carrying  a  bottle  of  whisk}'. 
She  was  afraid  that  she  could  not  do  much  with 
the  costume  of  the  Ancient  Arrow-maker;  but  she 
said,  "  Thank's,  I  will  try." 

"Of  course,  Minnehaha  is  the  important  figure. 
Perhaps,  in  turn,  you  can  help  me  there,"  remarked 
Wadlow. 

"About  her  dress,  my  ideas  are  clearly  made  up,' 
was  the  quick  reply.  "  I  cop}-  it  from  the  one 
worn  by  Pocahontas  in  the  play  of  that  name. 
J)icl  you  ever  sec  it  ?  " 


"  Oh,  yes.  That  will  do  admirably."  And 
\Vadlow  recalled  a  rainbow-medley  of  bright-dyed 
cloths,  beads,  ribbons,  and  feathers.  As  a  costume 
for  Minnehaha  it  was  an  obvious,  if  delightful, 
anachronism,  because  those  adornments  could  not 
possibly  have  been  known  to  Indian  belles  in  the 
traditional  days  of  Hiawatha.  But  \Vadlow  was 
bound  to  aid  his  fair  companion  in  every  way,  and 
it  would  never  do  to  unsettle  any  harmless  precon- 
ception of  details,  however  erroneous,  which  she 
might  have  formed.  1'or  his  own  part,  as  a  simpler 
task',  he  did  not  propose  to  dress  the  heroine  at 
all.  lie  trusted  that  Mrs.  Greatficld's  costume — 
itself  of  flowing  lines  and  neutral  tints — would  turn 
into  a  simple,  quiet,  appropriate  garment  for  Min- 
nehaha, as  the  widow  herself  gradually  changed 
under  his  eye  to  the  Indian  maiden  in  obedience  to 
his  powerful  wishing. 

"  One  word  of  caution,"  said  Wadlow,  gently. 
"  You  must  keep  your  eyes  fixed  on  the  figures  and 
shut  out  all  disturbing  sights  and  thoughts.  Are 
you  ready  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  whispered  reply. 

As  they  stood  there,  in  graceful  attitudes,  slightly 
bent  forward,  about  a  yard  apart,  they  were  a  fine- 
looking  couple.  So  the  widow  thought  as  she  stole 
a  glance  at  them,  while  still  busily  weaving  her 
imaginary  mat.  Meldrum,  more  strictly  attentive 


266  Till-:   ENCHANTED. 

to  business,  did  not  look  up,  but  struck  sparks 
from  the  stones  as  he  dashed  them  together  with 
industrious  fur}'. 

His  practice  of  this  kind  of  feat  enabled  Wad- 
low  to  perform  it  with  great  rapidity.  The  low 
uttered  "  yes  "  (how  sweetly  she  breathed  it)  was  still 
ringing  in  his  ears,  when  he  had  the  desired  tableau 
completed  before  his  eyes.  At  any  other  time  he 
would  have  dwelt  upon  it  till  the  strain  of  the  ex- 
ertion beg, in  to  fatigue  him.  ISut  on  this  occasion 
he  abruptly  terminated  the  vision,  in  order  to  see, 
with  a  side  eye,  how  Miss  Robison  was  getting 
on.  This  he  did  without  any  motion  of  his  body 
or  his  head,  so  that  she  was  unaware  of  his  scru- 
tiny. 

There  she  stood,  a  beautiful  living  statue.  Her 
face  was  sweetly  grave,  her  full  lips  parted  as  of  one 
in  rapt  contemplation,  her  eyes  wide  open.  She 
was  like  an  innocent  child  gazing  at  an  enthralling 
scene  of  some  play,  but  her  form  was  that  of  a 
woman  in  its  first  perfection.  Altogether,  a  charm- 
ing neophyte  of  the  new  school  of  the  enchanted. 
\Yadlow,  in  the  thrall,  would  have  looked  at  her  as 
long  as  she  looked  at  the  tableau.  But,  unfortun- 
ately for  both  of  them,  the  jolly  widow  could  stand 
suppression  no  longer.  "  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  It's  too 
ridiculous !  Ha,  ha  !  "  And  she  flung  down  her 
handful  of  braided  weeds  and  plunged  into  the  sum- 


-*'7 

nicr-housc,  \vhcrc  she  amid  be  heard  trying  to  stifle 
laughter  with  a  handkerchief. 

"That  is  too  bail,  Carrie,"  cried  Miss  Kobison,  as 
she  seemed  to  come  out  of  a  semi-trance,  "just  as  I 
was  getting  you  all  right 

"You  saw  Minnehaha  plainly.'"  asked  her  de- 
lighted inst  ructor. 

"  In  ,i  minute  more  I  \\-nuld  have  had  h<  r  dress 
complete.  1  here  were  a  '.;<><  id  many  leathers  and 
ribbons  and  things  to  look  after.  you  kn<uv;  and  the 
wampum  bracelets  were  rather  confusing,  as  I  was 
not  sure  how  man}'  I'ocahontas  had  on." 

Wadlow,  in  the  capacity  of  professor,  assured  his 
lovely  pupil  that  she  had  made  a  splendid  beginning. 
Tract  iee  would  soon  render  her  perfect  in  a  difficult 
art.  lUit  he  warned  her  laughingly  that  less  time 
must  be  spent  on  minnti.e  of  costume.  General 
effects  were  all  that  should  be  aimed  at. 

"  It  is  all  very  well  for  yon  men  to  say  that.  But 
we  women  can't  help  paying  strict  attention  to  snch 
trifles,  as  yon  call  them." 

As  Wadlow  glanced  at  her  perfectly  fitting  tailor- 
made  dress  and  remarked  the  exquisite  matching  of 
her  gloves,  hat,  and  parasol,  he  admitted  the  truth 
of  her  assertion,  and  mentally  recanted  some 
opinions  he  had  crudely  formed,  as  a  bachelor,  as  to 
the  comparative  unimportance  of  artistic  scrupu- 
losity in  female  attire. 


263  THE   ENCHANTED. 

"  I  will  win  her,"  he  said  to  himself,  illogically, 
and,  before  he  could  resume  the  dialogue,  the 
widow,  who  had  finally  choked  off  her  explosions, 
emerged  from  the  kiosk,  and  cried  out,  "Turn 
about  is  fair  play.  You  two  make  up  the  next 
tableau,  and  Mr.  Meldrum  will  give  me  a  lesson." 

"  Agreed,"  said  everybody. 

The  next  tableau,  if  one  keeps  to  the  book",  is 
composed  of  three  figures  :  the  Ancient  Arro\v- 
maker  and  Minnehaha  as  before,  reinforced  by 
Hiawatha,  who  comes  a-wooing.  But  Meldrum, 
being  necessarily  detached  as  spectator  and  coach 
for  the  widow,  was  out  of  the  cast.  But  \Yadlo\v 
did  not  mind  that,  and  Miss  Robison  made  no 
objection  to  it.  She  only  hoped  that  "  Carrie " 
would  be  as  successful  as  herself,  and  promised  her 
that  she  would  not  spoil  everything  with  a  horrid 
laugh. 

Meldrum,  as  manager,  gave  some  general  stage 
directions.  Then  he  and  Mrs.  Grcatfield  took  their 
assigned  positions  and  the  performance  proceeded. 

Miss  Robison  picked  up  the  partly  woven  stalks 
which  the  widow  had  thrown  aside,  seated  herself 
on  the  flat  stone,  and  fell  to  work  on  her  mat.  To 
her  comes  Wadlow,  as  Hiawatha.  lie  is  supposed 
to  be  carrying  across  his  broad  shoulders  a  red  deer 
which  he  throws  to  the  ground  before  her,  as  a 
propitiatory  offering,  apparently.  lie  does  not  say 


i  a  word.  But  Minnchaha  looks  up  at  him  from  her 
weaving  and  says,  in  gentle  accents,  "  Vcni  are  wel- 
come, Hiawatha."  In  tableaux,  as  everybody 

,  kno\vs,  nothing  is  said.  In  lieu  of  words,  attitude 
and  looks  must  tell  the  story.  That  story  was  of 
love  on  both  sides.  I  low  could  it  be  better  told 
than  by  the  language  of  the  eyes?  XYhen  \Yadlow 
made  a  graceful  gesture  as  of  casting  down  the  deer, 
he  stood  erect  as  became  a  noble  savage  and  fast- 
ened his  deep  black  eyes  on  the  brown  ones  of 
Minnchaha. 

"  Please  keep  perfectly  still  a  moment,  for  the 
effect  on  tJuin"  lie  whispered,  in  ;:  stage-aside.  As 
she  was  returning  his  ardent  ga/.c  just  then,  in  the 
conscientious  execution  of  her  role,  it  was  a  little 
awkward  not  to  be  allowed  to  move  a  muscle  or 
even  wink.  But  she  was  very  anxious  to  help  on 
Mrs.  Greatfield  and  she  dutifully  obeyed  her  pre- 
ceptor. This  arrangement  left  a  pair  of  large  black 
eyes  looking  intently  into  a  pair  of  large  brown 
ones  and  "dec  versa.  Both  of  these  young  people- 
had  read  somewhere  that  the  "  eyes  arc  the  mirror  of 
the  soul"  ;  but  they  never  knew  it  as  a  vital  truth 
till  then,  when  they  saw  straight  through  those 
half-suffused,  half-glowing  orbs  into  that  inner  self 

o  o 

,  where  secrets  stand  confessed,  stripped  of  their  last 
,  veil.  It  was  love  on  both  sides,  fresh  and  sweet  as 
[  the  morning  and  tingling  in  the  veins  like  the  wine 


270  y//A   EXCIIANTED. 

of  heaven.  Forgotten  were  their  mimic  parts ;  for- 
gotten their  own  identity.  The}'  were  the  primal 
man  and  woman  searching  each  other's  hearts  by 
looks  a  hundred  times  more  eloquent  than  words. 

"  I  la,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  widow,  unable  to 
contain  herself  an}'  longer.  "  Looking  on  is  even 
funnier  than  performing.  Thegre.it  big  eyes  you 
have  been  making  at  each  other! 

Thi>  ill-timed  mirth  dissolved  the  tableau,  much 
to  the  vexation  of  the  two  performers,  which  they 
tried  to  hide  with  the  poor  semblance  of  a  laugh  in 
echo  of  the  widow's. 

On  comparing  notes  afterward,  it  turned  out  that 
Mrs.  Greatfield  had  seen  nothing  as  it  should  have 
been  seen.  "  P>ut  one  thing  1  will  claim,"  said  she, 
"I  am  the  original  and  only  genuine  Minuehaha." 
And  she  authenticated  her  pretension  to  the  title  by 
peals  of  laughter  which  drowned  the  music  of  the 
cataract. 

Meldrum  had  been  fortunate  as  usual,  though  his 
function  as  coach  to  the  widow  had  barely  left  him 
time  to  snatch  one  good  view  for  himself. 

The  two  persons  most  gratified  with  the  experi- 
ments, in  their  double  capacity  of  spectators  and 
performers,  were  Miss  Robison  and  \Yadlow.  On 
their  return  ride  to  Minneapolis,  they  were  both 
quite  contented  and  happy,  as  ihey  dwelt  on  the 
pleasure  that  Longfellow,  the  enchanter,  had  given 


/.<>.V<;/'Y'.7./.G>/r  ./  /'  .1//.V.VA7/.///./    /-'ALLS,       ^?l 

them  that  day.  Mrs.  Grcatfield  was  always  good 
enough  to  supply  small  talk  when  other  people 
chose  to  be  silent.  And  Mcldrum,  equally  oblig- 
ing, secoiuled  the  widow's  efforts  at  conversation. 
Between  them  they  fully  made  good  the  shortcom- 
ings of  the  other  two.  It  would  have  been  decidedly 
awkward  if  all  four  had  been  introspective  and 
mute  together;  but  there  was  nothing  in  the  hearts 
of  the  widow  and  of  the  sworn  bachelor  opposite 
her  to  check  their  garrulity. 


CIIAPTKR  XX. 

AX     I-M)     AN!)    A     IJKGIXXING. 

I.\  order  to  avail  themselves  most  easily  of  Miss 
Robison's  invitation  to  seats  in  her  private  box  that 
night,  Mcldrum  and  \Vadlo\v  had  moved  over  from 
"The  West,"  Minneapolis,  to  "  The  l\yan,"  St. 
I'aul.  Though  it  is  quite  practicable  to  remain  as 
guest  at  one  or  the  other  of  these  t\vo  great  hotels 
and  attend  to  business  and  pleasure  in  both  eities, 
there  is  an  intense  local  feeling  upon  the  subject, 
which  every  tourist  who  wishes  to  retain  the  good 
opinion  of  friends  in  St.  Paul  and  Minneapolis  re- 
spectively, recognizes  and  gracefully  conforms  to. 
No  amount  of  real  estate  owned  by  Mrs.  Greatfield  in 
St.  Paul  would  have  shaken  her  allegiance  to  "The 
West."  Miss  Robison's  exalted  opinion  of  "The 
Ryan  "  was  no  less  firmly  held,  and  dangerous  to  be 
trifled  with. 

Entering  the  fine  large  opera  house,  they  took  a 
preliminary  look  about  them.  They  were  not  at 
all  surprised  to  find  an  interior  which,  for  size  and 
decorations,  would  be  creditable  to  a  much  older 
and  more  populous  city  than  St.  Paul.  The  re- 
moter the  western  communities,  the  more  they 

272 


./.V   /;.\7>   ,1.\'/>   A    r.KG/tVNf.YG.  -73 

pride  themselves  on  grand  opera  houses.  With 
them  the  Grand  Opera  I  louse  stands  for  Luxury 
and  Refinement, as  the  Church  stands  for  Religion 
and  the  Rank  for  Money.  I  Tastily  surveying  the 
crowded  audience,  the  two  friends  remarked  tin- 
same  preponderance  of  evening  dress,  the  same 
:  style  of  faces,  the  same  fashionable,  worldly-wise 
look,  with  which  they  had  long  been  familiar  in 
New  York.  The  lack  of  anything  new  or  peculiar 
iu  the  appearance  of  the  people  before  them,  made 
the  inspection  devoid  of  interest.  Mcldrum  and 
Wadlow,  as  they  followed  the  usher  to  Miss  Robi- 
son's  box,  could  only  reflect  on  the  melancholy 
sameness  of  their  prosperous  fellow-citizens  in  all 
external  things,  no  matter  by  how  many  thousands 
of  miles  they  may  be  separated.  And  with  that 
commonplace  thought  the  audience  was  dismissed 
from  their  minds  for  the  rest  of  tin.'  evening. 

If  they  had  differed  from  the  majority  of  men  — 
as  they  did  not — in  possessing  something  more  than 
a  vague  knowledge  of  women's  clothes,  they  would 
have  appreciated  the  combined  richness  and  good 
taste  of  the  new  Paris  costumes  worn  by  Mrs.  Great- 
field  and  Miss  Robison  expressly  for  the  occasion. 
These  had  becn«the  targets  of  lorgnettes,  leveled  at 
them  point  blank  from  all  parts  of  the  house,  since 
they  were  placed  on  exhibition  in  the  front  scats  of 
the  box.  If  they  excited  feminine  admiration,  not 


274  THE  ENCHANTED. 

unmixed  with  envy,  the  chief  object  sought  for  by 
the  wearers  was  gained.  The  widow  knew  how 
ignorant  and  indifferent  are  men  of  the  higher  and 
better  class  in  matters  of  gowns  and  ornaments. 
Neither  she  nor  Miss  Robison  expected  or  desired 
that  Mcldrum  and  \Yadlo\v  would  prove  exceptions 
to  the  rule,  and  the}-  did  not.  As  the  door  of  the 
box  was  opened  to  them  there  were  disclosed 
radiant  visions  of  partially  undraped  female  loveli- 
ness, which  threw  all  the  trivialities  and  accidents  of 
dress  into  the  shade. 

The  freedom  and  kindness  of  their  reception  by 
the  ladies  showed  on  how  g. iod  a  footing  they  had 
placed  themselves.  It  also  gave  rise  to  some  start- 
ling and  amusing  surmises  among  the  audience,  who 
commanded  a  good  view  of  the  "  royal  box  "  (as  it 
had  been  termed  by  a  newspaper  reporter,  in  com- 
pliment to  the  fair  owner  of  the  house).  Several 
reports  of  Airs,  (ireat  field's  engagement,  while 
abroad,  had  got  into  circulation.  She  had  <contra- 

o 

dieted  these  as  fast  as  possible,  but  she  could  not 
catch  up  with  them  all.  The  presence  of  two 
strangers  with  the  widow,  in  the  box  of  her  friend, 
started  a  rumor  that  one  of  them  might  be  her  im- 
ported  fiance.  It  was  whispered  that  Meld  rum  was 
the  lucky  man,  and  that  he  was  variously  a  Duke,  a 
Marquis,  or  Count,  of  any  nationality  that  invention 
might  ascribe  to  him.  As  to  Miss  Robison,  no  one 


A.V  EXD   AXD   A    tiEGL\~XL\'G.  275 

was  so  imaginative  as  to  surest  any  tender  associa- 

O  O  O  J 

lion  between  her  and  \Yadlo\v,  which  only  proves 
ho\v  stupid  is  the  great  public,  even  when  equipped 
with  <>prra  glasses,  to  see  what  is  going  on  between 
two  persons  who  are  wise  enough  not  to  show  it. 

When  the  conductor  rapped  with  his  baton  for 
the  overture,  there  fell  upon  the  house  a  hush  so 
well  bred  that  Mclclrum  and  Wadlow  reali/.ed  more 
full}',  than  by  an}'  other  sign,  that  they  were  not  in 
\ew  York.  To  be  sure,  the  opera  troupe  engaged 
for  the  opening  of  the  season  was  very  celebrated 
and  expensive  —  the  prima  donna  commanding 
$1000  a  night  and  the  first  tenor  almost  as  much  — 
and  there  would  be  but  three  performances.  Hut 
in  spite  of  these  cogent  reasons  why  audiences 
should  extract  the  uttermost  from  ever}-  note  played 
or  sung,  boors  and  selfish  persons,  had  they  been 
present,  would  have  managed  to  spoil  the  entertain- 
ment for  their  music-loving  neighbors  by  their  in- 
cessant chatter  and  giggle.  St.  Parul  reserved  its 
small  talk  for  the  cntractcs. 

There  were  four  specially  attentive  listeners  in 
Miss  Robison's  box.  While  the  siwgcrs  were  on  the 
stage,  they  were  not  vexed  a-nd  distracted  by  an}' 
signs  of  inattention  in  that  quarter.  The  widow 
was  at  times  sorely  tempted  to  laugh  at  some  ab- 
surdity of  the  chorus  or  blunders  of  supernume- 
raries. Hut  that  would  have  been  bad  form  and  a 


had  example,  and,  brusque  and  volatile  as  she  was, 
she  would  have  bitten  her  lip  through  sooner  than 
have  annoyed  other  people  in  that  way.  The  jelly- 
like  quivering  of  her  upper  frame  only  showed  the 
difficulty  she  had  in  holding  in.  Meldrum,  directly 
behind  her,  was  the  sole  person  who  observed  it. 
Miss  Robison  and  Wad  low  were  ostensibly  wrapped 
up  in  the  performance,  but  really  in  thoughts  of 
each  other.  To  both  of  them  Lucia  was  a  musical 
feast,  familiarity  with  which  had  not  lessened  its 
deliciousncss.  In  truth,  circumstances  had  imparted 
to  it  new  beauties,  the  subtle  interpretation  of 
which  came  from  the  depths  of  their  own  hearts. 
There  is  no  truer  expression  of  love  and  despair  on 
the  lyric  sta;.>;e  than  Doni/etti's  masterpiece.  \Vhcn 
two  young  people,  who  are  at  the  beginning  of  a 
love  still  unavowed,  drink  it  in  with  their  ears  and 
eyes,  the  draught  is  a  very  sweet  one  even  its 
tragic  sadness  dropping  no  bitterness  in  the  cup. 
For  them  the  story  is  one  of  constancy  even  unto 
death — and  what  lovers  worth)-  of  the  name  are 
frightened  at  that  ! 

Between  the  acts  there  was  an  incessant  stream 
of  male  callers  at  the  "  royal  box."  The  hearty 
greetings  to  the  ladies,  on  this  their  first  public  ap- 
pearance since  their  return  from  Kurope,  testified  to 
the  popularity  they  enjoyed  at  home.  Meldrum 
and  Wadlow  were  introduced  and  received  in  the 


277 

cordial  Western  fashion, — the  more  cordial,  perhaps, 
when  it  was  discovered  that  they  spoke  the  Ameri- 
can variety  of  the  English  language.  Had  they 
proved  to  be  Knglishmen  or,  still  worse,  French- 
men, Germans,  or  Italians,  the  young  manhood  of 
St.  Paul  would  have  felt  like  resenting  their  intru- 
sion as  undoubted  aspirants  for  the  hand  of  one  or 
the  other  or  both  of  the  ladies.  Meldrum  had  no 
personal  interest  in  the  matter  save  as  a  well-wisher 
of  the  wido\v.  Noticing  closely  the  fine  young 
fellows  who  dropped  into  the  box  successively  for  a 
minute's  talk,  he  detected  no  one  with  that  mark  of 
confidence  and  presumption  in  his  manner  which 
stamps  the  favored  man.  \Vadlo\v,  keenly  observ- 
ant on  his  part,  was  agreeably  sati>fied  of  the  non- 
appearance  of  a  rival,  lie  seemed  to  be  having  the 
field  all  to  himself.  He  did  have  it. 

And  yet  for  some  time  he  could  not  convince  him- 
self of  the  undoubted  fact.  So  accustomed  are 
men  to  the  frowns  of  fortune,  so  distrustful,  as  a 
rule,  of  their  own  future,  that  \Vadlo\v,  with  all  his 
good  sense,  could  not  readily  bring  himself  to  hope 
that  no  tremendous,  almost  insurmountable  obstacle 
would  thwart  the  progress  of  his  love.  lie  tor- 
mented himself  by  imagining  some  pre-cngage- 
ment  or  old  entanglement  of  Miss  Robison  which 
had  not  left  her  heart  whole,  or  opposition  from 
relatives,  or  the  cooling  effects  of  geographical 


separation  (she  at  St.  1'aul,  he  in  Xe\v  York),  or 
(though  this  was  tin:  least  troublesome  of  all  his 
anxieties)  the  placement  of  the  lady  bevoiul  his 
reach  by  virtue  of  her  wealth,  which  was  undoubt- 
edly lar^'e.  This  last-mentioned  cause'  of  distrust 
vanished  when  squarely  looked  at.  It  is  onlv  in 
Knglish  and  other  foreign  novels  that  suitors  are 
ever  appalled  by  an}' disparity  of  fortune  between 
themselves  and  the  objects  of  their  idolatry.  The 
resolute,  competent  \oting  American  carries  a  po- 
tentiality of  riches  in  his  head  as  surely  as  Napo- 
leon's soldiers  carried  marshal's  batons  in  their 
knapsacks.  \Vadlo\v,  whatever  were  his  momentary 
misgiving's,  had  confidence  in  his  future  profes- 
sional success.  lie  expected,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
to  be  rich  some  day.  lie  considered  no  lady  be- 
yond his  reach,  even  if  it  were  a  question  solely  of 
money-bags  and  not  of  hearts. 

All  the  other  lions  in  his  path  were  as  Iamb-like 
as  this,  had  he  but  known  it.  There  was  no  prior 
affair  which  required  the  effacement  of  some  image 
from  the  lady's  heart  to  make  room  for  his.  There 
was  not  a  single  relation  who  would  presume  to  ad- 
vise Miss  Robison  in  the  delicate  and  serious  mat- 
ters of  an  engagement,  except  the  dear  old  grand- 
mother, and  she  was  destined  to  become  the  friend 
and  abettor  of  this  young  man  the  moment  she  set 
eyes  on  him.  There  was  not  even  a  guardian  or 


279 

trustee  to  interpose  with  officious  zeal  ;  for  Miss 
Robison  was  of  age  aiul  her  own  mistress,  and  she 
had  for  adviser  a  lawyer  of  mature  years,  who 
took  an  instant  liking  to  the  clean-cut  face  of  the 
stripling  who  had  won,  again.-. t  the  Xestors  of  th<' 
Ni-w  \  ork  bar,  the  famous  case  of  The  Universe 
Life  Insurance  Company  r'.v.  Uumptrt,  <•/  <>/.  All 
was  to  go  smoothly  to  the  end,  thanks  to  the  fir-t 
true  love'  of  the  f.iir  girl,  \\hose  resemblance  in 
heart  and  mind  to  Amy  kobsart  was  even  greater 
than  that  of  face  and  form. 

ll  \Vadlow  had  not ,  in  his  modesty,  underrated  his 
own  power  of  pleasing,  he  would  have  foreseen  no 
difficulty  whatever.  P>ut  ho\v  shouKl  he  know  at 
the  outset — he  learned  it  later  from  a  dear  pair  of 
lips— that  he  was  himself,  in  a  small  way  if  you 
please,  an  enchanter  -that  the  very  facility  with 
which  he  surrendered  to  the  dominion  of  the 
Masters  in  the  Art  had  imparted  to  him  a  charm 
which  one  young  lady,  at  least,  found  resistless.  It 
was  because  she  recognized  the  poetical,  spiritual 
quality  of  the  man,  by  which  he  sought  to  lift  him- 
self out  of  every-day  life  and  its  cares,  into  close 
communion  with  the  great  minds  of  the  race,  that 
she  set  him  far  above  any  man  she  had  ever  known, 
and  made  him  her  hero. 

lUit  that  night  they  sat  out  the  melodious  woes 
of  Lucia  all  unknowing  of  the  fullness  with  which 


2  SO 

each  occupied  the  heart  of  tin-  other.  The  opera's 
despairing  close  was  fraught  with  a  warning  for 
all  earthly  love.  It  rang  in  their  ears  as  they 
rose  to  leave  the  house,  jarring  almost  painfully 
upon  the  feelings  they  had  betrayed  only  in  looks 
so  far. 

Hut  it  is  the  happiness  of  the  present  writer  to 
say,  all  wise  old  saws  to  the  contrary  notwithstand- 
ing, that,  as  soon  as  love  was  mutually  avowed 
between  this  man  and  this  woman,  and  \Vadlo\v 
mustered  up  the  courage  to  risk-  all  on  a  declaration 
within  the  next  twenty-four  hours,  its  course  ran 
as  smooth  as  oil  and  was  hedged  in  on  both  >ides  by 
thornless  roses. 

The  day  after  his  acceptance,  news  came  from 
Duluth  that  he  need  not  return  there-  for  a  week,  to 
wind  up  the  business,  unexpected  delays  having 
occurred  in  its  progress  to  a  conclusion.  This 
week  he  dedicated  to  the  unalloyed  happiness  of  a 
first  love. 

The  sudden  and  romantic  engagement  was  too 
choice  a  secret  to  be  kept  by  anybody  more  than 
two  days.  Miss  Robison  had  felt  a  shyness  about 
allowing  the  fact  to  be  proclaimed  from  the  house- 
tops till  she  herself  had  become  a  little  wonted  to 
it.  But  Mrs.  Greatfield  was  loud  in  her  reprobation 
of  such  "  nonsense."  And  it:  was  to  the  treachery 
of  that  most  devoted  of  friends  that  the  young  lady 


owed  the  production  of  the  only  thrilling  social  scn- 
s.iti<")ii  in  which  she  ever  took  part.  There  were  men 
about  town  who  thought  that  the  pri/.e  should  have 
fallen  into  the  lap  of  some  resident  of  St.  Paul, 
instead  of  a  stranger  who  would  bear  it  away  to 
his  home  in  New  York,  leaving  behind  him  only  the 
Grand  Opera  House  and  Kobison's  Block,  to  recall 
a  name  much  respected  in  the  short  annals  of  the 
place,  and  most  of  all  in  the  fair  person  of  its  only 
surviving  bearer,  who  was  to  the  poor  of  that  city 
what  Mrs.  Greatfield  was  to  the  needy  of  Minne- 
apolis, a  liberal,  thoughtful,  and  constant  giver. 
Chiefly,  after  all,  she  would  be  missed  by  the 
charities  of  her  native  town.  But,  however  much 
her  future  absence  might  be  deplored,  no  one  who 
met  the  man  of  her  choice,  who  was  to  carry  her  off 
in  triumph,  spoke  aught  but  praise  for  him,  so 
favorably  did  he  impress  everybody  by  his  frank- 
ness, his  good  look's,  and  the  heart  that  shone 
through  his  face.  Mcldrum,  though  second  of  the 
two  in  public  opinion,  made  his  friends  also  \vhere- 
ever  he  was  introduced.  And  there  were  many 
people  who  hazarded  the  guess  that,  if  Mrs.  Great- 
field  "  took  anybody,  it  would  be  that  other  genial 
fellow  from  New  York."  But  it  was  not  to  be. 
Meldrum  had  as  little  intention  of  marrying  as  the 
widow  had.  Fate,  seconding  their  own  preferences, 
had  already  irrevocably  decreed  that  they  should 


both  continue  through  life  miniated  to  anybody; 
and  that  whatever  happiness  they  missed  for  them- 
selves, by  abstinence  from  marriage,  should  not  be 
lost  to  those  with  whom  they  came  in  contact  as 
Ion;.;-  as  they  lived.  Much  as  may  be  said  in  be-half 
of  wedlock"  as  a  divine  institution,  there  is  room  in 
the  world  for  more  widows  like  Mr.-,.  Jo.-,iah  J. 
(ireat field  and  more  bachelors  like  Mr.  Felix 
Mcldi  um. 

It  was  in  the  following  January,  that  St.  Paul  saw 
a  wedding  who,e  brilliancy  was  only  justly  meas- 
ured by  the  space  accorded  to  it  in  the  Comet  the 
list  of  invited  gue-.-its  alone  filling  two  columns. 
There  were1  several  smudgy  pictures  of  the  Kobison 
mansion  and  grounds,  and  there  were  portraits  of 
the  bride  and  groom,  the  benevolent  intent  of  which 
did  not  mitigate  their  unparalleled  atrocity  as  work's 
of  art. 

The  St.  Paul  public  heard  nothing  more  of  the 
missing  one,  —so  retired  was  she  in  her  new-found 
happiness, — until  about  three  months  later  the  fol- 
lowing item  from  the  New  York  Rostrum  was  borne 
by  the  telegraph  to  that  city  and  to  all  the  world  of 
America.  Most  of  the  night  editors  who  received  it 
threw  it  into  the  waste  basket.  Others  cut  it  down  to 
two  or  three  lines.  The  St.  Paul  Comet  printed  it  en- 
tire, and  here  it  is  : 


SOMKTHINC    \K\V. 

The  latest  novelty  in  the  line  of  associated  effort 
has  just  been  formally  announced.  It  is  a  club 
bearing  the  strange  title  of  "Till;  K\<  1 1.\  NTKI  >." 
Its  avowed  object  is  the  selection  and  visiting  of 
places,  at  home  ami  abroad,  made  famous  by  the 
genius  of  truly  L;Tcat  poets  and  novelists,  and  the 
fe[)roductioii  (by  a  strenuous  exercise  of  the  will)  of 
the  imaginary  scenes  and  incidents  with  which 
those  localities  are  identified,  (iood  progress  has 
already  been  made  in  the  new  fu-Id  by  the  few 
resolute  persons  who  have  cultivated  it  privately. 
"Tin:  KxrilAX  !T.I>  "  now  number  about  thirty. 
The  membership  is  said  to  be  necessarily  limited 
by  the  difficulty  of  finding  persons  fitted  by  nature 
and  inclination  for  the  extraordinary  task  proposed. 
The  first  President  is  Mr.  1'Ylix  Mcldrum,  the  uvll 
known  partner  in  the  banking  firm  of  Spinna^e  «S,' 
Meldrum,  and  the  Secretary  is  Mrs.  Madison  Wad- 
low,  wife  of  the  distinguished  youn^  lawyer,  whose 
own  investigations  have  done  much,  it  is  said,  to 
build  up  what  may  be  called  an  important  branch 
of  Psychical  Science,  if  half  its  claims  are  true. 


THE   END. 


PUD  iroiiuirT()N\s 

TFE    AND    LETTKKS. 

Till;    1,1!  K,    LKTTKKS,    AND    1  K  1 1  ,\  ]).-!  1 1  1'  S    UF 

RH'HARM   MONCRTUN    MII.NI.S,   KIRST    I.<>KI> 

1IOUCHTON.        1^'   T.    WKMYSS  KI.II).       INTRO- 
DUCTION    J'.Y     RICHARD     ]!i;\KY    SToDDARIt. 


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them.     They  brittle 
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BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "THE  ANGLOMANIACS." 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED 

yy/j  .S'/Vvr  <7  <r    I7r<>'//t/ir  Plantation. 

^          J  *_> 

JiV 

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foundation  in  fact  tor  all  the  book  contains. 

PRESS  COMMENTS. 


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104  &  106  FOURTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK. 


THE   ANGLOMAN1ACS 

A   Story  of  New   Vor/c  Soiic/y  To-day. 

By  MRS.   BURTON  HARRISON. 


A    Volume,     I2inc,    on    Extra    Fine    Laid    Paper,    Dainty 
Binding,  $1.00. 


I'liis  is  (In-  story  that  has  attracted  sut  h  wide  attention  while 
ill  filling  through  the  ('I'litinv  .]/</  ,./.:-YAV.  There  has  bet  n  no  >uch 
picture  of  New  York  social  lile  p, tinted  within  the  memory  of  ihc 
ptescnt  generation.  '1  he  satire  is  as  keen  as  a  rapier  point,  while  tin: 
story  itself  has  it-,  marked  pathetic  side.  Never  has  the  subjci  I  ol 
Anglomania  been  so  cleverly  treated  as  in  ihe,e  pages,  and  it  is  not 
to  l>e  wondered  at  that  society  is  deeply  agitated  as  to  the  authoiship 
of  a  story  which  touches  it  in  its  most  vulnerable  part. 

"  Tli is  delicious  satire  from  the  pMiu;ent  pen  i  if  an  anonymous  writer 
imi>t  be  n  ad  to  be;  apprei  iatcd.  1- rom  tin:  intiodin  lion  <.n  boaid  the 
I-'.truiia  to  the  final,  when  the  lieroine  vavi  s  adi^u  to  her  Kngli.sli  Lord,  it 
Is  life,  real,  true  American  life,  and  \\  i;  blu<li  at  the-  truth  of  th"  pii  tnn-, 
There  is  no  line  not  replete  with  scathing  sarc.n.-ni,  no  chai'aeli  r  \\hich  v.e 
have  not  seen  and  known.  .  .  .  Read  this  book  and  see  human  nature  ; 
ponder  upon  what  is  there  written,  and  while  it  may  not  make  yon  wise,  it 
certainly  will  r/iake  yon  think  upon  what  is  a  great  and  growing  .social 
evil." — JVivv-/,/<'7i';/  J\u'ly  II,'i\ilJ. 

"  The  lieroine  is  the  daughter  of  an  honest  money-making  old  father 
and  an  ignorant  but  ambitious  mother,  whose  money  has  enabled  the 
mother  and  daughter  to  make  their  way  into  the  ciiele  of  the  '  I1  our 
Hundred.'"— N.  Y.  Herald. 


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104  i!v  106  FOURTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK. 


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